Music Man
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: When a man who claims to be a bandleader comes to town, everyone in Downton finds themselves on edge. Life, which had for so long been safely the same, is about to be tipped upside down.
1. Rock Island

The train whistle blew and he opened his eyes, suddenly awake. A group of men, with their coats off, gathered in a corner to play a gamble at a card game he could see from his position was rigged. Snorting to himself to hide an audible laugh, he settled back on the window to fall asleep.

A moment later his eyes opened again and he walked over to the group. "Care to deal me in gentlemen?"

They all eyed him a moment. He watched how their eyes went to his watch chain, his nice suit, and the bills he had peeking purposefully out of his pocket. The man closest to him, with a cigar held to one side of his mouth, blew a stream of smoke in one direction before scooting to the side to leave room.

"We're already a couple dozen deep each if you're feeling lucky."

"I don't believe in luck." He sat down, counting out his buy in, and laid it on top of the pile before taking his cards. "I believe in skill and fate. Everything else is overrated."

"What must you think of love then?"

"Never had it, don't intend to spend my life chasing it." He plucked two cards loose. "I'll take two."

They played a few rounds, the others at the table trying to bite back their remarks when he took hand after hand from them. He watched their movements, keeping his eyes on the move for their telegraphed tells. And when they were cleaned out he pulled the pile of cash toward him.

"Seems that fate was on my side today gentlemen."

"We're still playing," The man with a cigar tapped it, now barely a stub, in the dish. "Sit down and we'll play with IOUs."

"No sir," He shook his head, "If I learned anything from what I do then I know the moment to cash out and get out."

"What is it that you do?" Another man, now tucking his empty billfold back in his pocket with the face of a man not only embarrassed but also thoroughly broke.

"Salesman."

"We're all that here." The last man, stuffing his arms through the sleeves of a jacket a size too small for him but matching the rest of the too-tight suit with straining buttons, put forward. "What do you sell?"

"Whatever's needed."

"How far around do you go?" Cigar finished his final puffs and stubbed it out, a swirl of smoke escaping like the last breath.

"I was covering the East Coast region, mostly New York and Connecticut, but I recently got transferred to the Mississippi River states. Iowa, Illinois, Missouri."

"Sounds dreadful." The broke man took his seat back. "I'd hate to be out here permanently."

"Why?"

"Because you can't sell anything to Iowans. They're stubborn, hawk-eyed, and bow-legged. These are 'people of the earth' and they're naturally suspicious of two things." The man with a straining suit ticked up his fingers. "Salesmen and outsiders."

"Then I guess I'll have to charm my way into their good graces." He took back his own coat, holding onto the seat as the train pulled to a stop at the station. "I go where the people are as green as the money and wherever they'll buy what I'm selling. I'm not picky."

"Been around a lot then?" He shrugged in answer to Cigar. "Then maybe you've heard of this guy giving us all a black eye."

"What guy?"

Broke scoffed, "If you haven't met him then lucky you. He ruins every town for anyone following him and sometimes whole counties."

"Because he out sold you?"

"Because he sells something that doesn't exist." Straining Suit sat down gingerly, as if afraid his pressured seams might split if he moved too quickly.

"What's he selling?"

"Boys' Bands." Cigar dug in his pockets for something and found another cigar he lit with a few determinedly forceful efforts from the first cigar. "A few people before him would sell guitars, mandolins, some harps maybe to the interested or overly religious, but this man sells entire bands."

"Except he doesn't. They're just concepts, ideas." Broke shook his head, "He's driven me out of no less than three counties in Ohio and five in Illinois. No one trusts us after he sweeps in, collects his money, and blows back out. Ruins the whole area."

"Does he sell them the instruments?"

"Yeah, uniforms too." Straining Suit gave a labored sigh, "I'd be worried of being anywhere east of the Mississippi if he's still on track this side of the line."

"Do they receive what they paid for?" All the men stared at him, confused. "Do the people who invest money in him get what they paid for?"

"It's all cash on delivery."

"Then," He shrugged his case in his hands, "He's as honest as anyone else and he didn't sell anything that doesn't exist."

"The point is he promises them a band, with himself as the leader, but he can't read one note from another."

He laughed, "That's not a lie then. That's good marketing."

"You seem awfully confident." Cigar called after him as he made his way to the carriage door, pulling his case behind him. "What makes you so sure this man's not a dirty crook? What puts you on John Bates's side?"

"Because," He winked at them, "I'm John Bates."

He jumped off the train as it pulled out of the station, the men pressing their faces to the window. One of them lowered his, Cigar, shouting back, "You're a shyster Bates!"

John saluted him, smiling as he turned toward the town where he landed. When he fully glimpsed it the air left him a bit. Nothing but dusty roads, green fields, and a few concentrated streets of shops greeted him with the same dour expression as the people at the station.

Picking up his bag and cracking his neck, he strode toward town.


	2. Iowa Stubborn

John aimed for two men on a ladder adjusting the station sign. "Excuse me?" They did not seem to hear him so he tried again. "Excuse me?"

One of the men looked down, "What?"

"Where's a good hotel?"

"Try the Palmer House in Chicago."

John gaped a little as the man turned back to the sign before shrugging and walking off. He got ten feet before trying to talk to a woman examining something under the shade of a storefront overhang. She, like the man on the ladder, rebuffed him. Grabbing her child's hand she practically scampered away rather than talk to the man holding his case.

He set it down, frowning before eyeing the town before him. Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned to see the storeowner. "Yes?"

"Don't bother."

"Don't bother what?"

"Don't bother trying to talk to anyone." The man gestured vaguely to the people traveling around town. "No one here wants you to stay and they'll do nothing to endear themselves to you in the hopes you leave faster."

"Is that town policy?"

"It's the way it is."

"Is it?" John raised an eyebrow, "Seems inhospitable."

"There's nothing halfway about the Iowa way to treat you… when they treat you… which we may not do at all."

"And that includes conversation?"

"It includes everything."

"Then why are you talking to me?" John looked around, "If everyone here is as prickly as you say why are you chatting with me."

"Because I hope you buy something." The man gestured to his store and John nodded in understanding. "It's buy one get one half off on the fruit."

"Is it going over?"

"It's not at its best." The man confided but John dug in his pocket for a bit of change all the same. "Good luck in your next town."

"What if I want to stay in this town?" John pressed but the man already moved to ignore him like the others. "What an interesting place."

Picking up his bag he made his way across the street, just missing being hit by a buggy. He lifted his hat, as the man driving glared at him, and continued across the street. Landing on the boards that composed the makeshift pavement, he noted the way two women made a show of not staring at him.

John smiled, doffing his hat, and walked over to them. "Good morning ladies."

"It is if you don't mind sweating through all your clothing." The woman grabbed the other by the hand and pulled her away from him.

John set down his bag, scratching at his head, and squinted back at the street. Everyone avoided eye contact with him or made a show of being very busy at whatever small task they could take into their hands in a moment. He sucked the inside of his cheek, shrugging to himself as he picked up his bag again, and continued walking toward what looked like a guesthouse.

Opening the door he pushed in, noting a man at the desk tallying something in a ledger. John set his bag down under the counter and cleared his throat. The man looked up at him, smiling.

"Good morning sir, how can I help you?"

"You could tell me if you have any rooms." John raised a hand, "And please don't say there are nice rooms in Chicago."

"Man at the station already told you about the Palmer House?" The man at the front desk cringed, "He's not the politest of fellows. Treated me with an unprecedented vitriol when I came to town."

John pointed at the man, narrowing his eyes, "You look very familiar to me."

"I've been all over and, judging by your suit, you have too."

Snapping his fingers, John smiled, "Henry Talbot. You were selling cars out of that factory in Detroit."

Talbot frowned and then his eyes widened. "John Bates, as I live and breathe." He stuck his hand forward and John heartily shook it. "I didn't think they'd let you out of that little hole they tossed you in."

"Eventually even the innocent get a reprieve from their prison sentence." John cracked his neck, "It was overturned when they found the guilty party."

"What a way to talk about your wife."

"Ex-wife."

"Congratulations." Talbot checked his ledger, "For that I'm putting you in a room close to the bath."

"That's very kind of you." John grabbed his case as Talbot took a key off the rack and came around the counter to lead John up the stairs. 'What brought you here?"

"After they got you in Detroit I decided salesmanship wasn't really my thing."

"So you stumble into sleepy Iowa?" John gestured around them, "I'm convinced they're ten years behind."

"And may they ever be so." Talbot unlocked a door, "Keeps this place nice and quiet, which I discovered I like a lot so I'm not overly upset by it."

"No more excitement for you?"

"There's nothing more exciting then trying to woo a woman John, surely you remember." Talbot bit back his laugh, "Unless it's been too long for you."

"Don't worry about me." John took a turn around the room before nodding, "This suits me just fine. Out of the way and small."

"It's reflected in the daily billing." Talbot leaned on the doorframe, "How long are you staying?"

"Depends on how long it takes to get your town out of the serious trouble it's in." John winked, setting his case on the bed and popping the latches.

"Downton's not in any trouble." Talbot sighed. "These people are more stubborn than a mule, will stand touching noses for a week without seeing eye-to-eye, invite you to a picnic where you're welcome to all the food you brought for yourself, and be colder than a falling thermometer in December if you mention the humidity but they're not in trouble."

"You're going to tell me this town couldn't bear to shake a bit given what you just said?"

Talbot laughed, "They're simple people, sure, and the biggest thing they've got in town are the billiard tables but they're good people John."

"And I'm not good people?"

"You're not ready for them. The suspicion of anyone from the outside is bred into them from birth. They've got chips on their shoulder larger than the swath the Mississippi cuts through America to match it too."

"I thought you said they were good people."

"They're the kind of people who wont' spare you a second thought without needing to but they'd give you the shirt off their back if you needed it and walk home in their underclothes." Talbot stared into the distance, a bit whimsical. "It's a lovely place."

"I can make it more lovely."

"They don't need your-" Talbot stopped, "What are you selling now?"

"Same as I was before."

Talbot guffawed, "They definitely don't need a boy's band."

"Everyone needs a band."

"Not these kids. They can barely manage a tune to whistle. How're they going to get their lips around a tuba or heaven forbid the details of a clarinet?"

"What about the girls?"

"Now you've just talked yourself into a corner."

John stored his case under the bed and folded his arms over his chest, "How so?"

"Because the people here won't like you because you're a stranger. Second, they won't trust you to instruct their sons. Third, they won't let you near their daughters unless they've got a shotgun trained on you at all times."

"Sounds exciting."

"I'm serious John, as your friend, you need to move on to the next town."

"Won't all of Iowa be the same?"

"No, some of it is downright pleasant. Try Dubuque, Davenport, Marshalltown, Mason City, Keokuk, even Clear Lake but not here. Not Downton."

"Now Henry," John put his hand down on Talbot's shoulder. "All you've down is convince me I have to stay here. Get this town out of the serious trouble it's in."

"They're not in trouble, I told you."

"Then I've got to create some. Give them a need for a boy's band." John shuddered, "If only to get some life pumping into them. They're downright dreary."

"They're people of the land."

"That's no excuse."

"They've every excuse John."

"Henry," John took the key to his room from the other man's hand. "You've lost your sense of adventure."

"No, I simply got wiser than you did." Talbot pointed his finger in John's face. "Don't think I don't remember all the close calls I had hustling for you."

"Don't say hustle, makes it seem like what I do is trick people into things."

"If you were an illusionist you couldn't be taking these people for more money." Talbot followed John down the stairs. "I won't let you ruin this town for me."

John paused, turning back up the stairs toward Talbot, "Is there something I should know?"

Talbot shuffled in place, "I told you I met a girl."

"Is it serious?"

"I think so."

"Does she think so?"

Talbot sighed, pushing past John, "That's not the point. She's a land manager."

"You don't aim high at all do you?" John leaned on the counter as Talbot returned to the ledger. "How'd you meet her?"

"The same way any man meets a woman in this town. I went to church."

"Protestants?"

"Episcopalians." Talbot shrugged, "It's all the same to me. I'm Anglican but here it isn't the same."

"Less grander?"

"Hard not to think that way when the church is built of wood and a single room." Talbot shrugged, "Gets bloody hot in the summer but we sweat out the heat for the picnics where they serve lemonade and homemade ice cream."

"Chances to chat up your woman?" John winked at Talbot's line of red around the collar. "You've never been this sweet on anyone. Not even when you had that mechanic… what was her name?"

"Audrey Ramirez."

"She was sassy."

"So is Mary."

John smiled, "So your paramour has a name."

"Everyone does."

"But you hadn't told me what it was." John turned to the door, "I think I'm going to get myself acquainted with town a bit. Care to join me?"

"I'm manning the books here until noon."

"Alright then tell me where I could find enough breakfast to tide me over for a few hours."

Talbot pointed across the street, "Mrs. Patmore's. In the afternoon's it's a soda fountain but she's proud of her breakfasts. Makes a thing of them."

"Good?"

"If not for lack of money and strict necessity, I'd eat there for every meal." Talbot nodded, "Go on. Endear yourself to her and a lot of things in town'll be a lot easier."

John tapped the counter and headed across the street. He tipped his hat at a ginger-haired woman, who smiled at him but kept walking, and dodged a blonde-haired man jogging to keep pace with the woman. With a hop he landed on the boardwalk and took the few steps to enter Mrs. Patmore's establishment.

The bell over the door jangled and a brunette-haired girl hurried out from the back. John smiled at her but she immediately dropped her eyes to the floor and rattled off something John could not catch. Smiling to cover his awkwardness he stepped forward. "Could you repeat that?"

The girl squeaked and ran back to the kitchen. His mouth hanging toward the floor, John tried to understand what just happened. He pivoted in place, the tiny dinning room empty, and scratched at his head in confusion.

"Excuse Daisy." John turned to face a smaller, more rotund, woman with a curly thatch of orange hair peeking out of her cap. "She's easily excitable and thought you looked a bit intimidating."

"Not my intention but not the first time it's happened."

"I imagine someone like you gets that a lot." The woman eyed him up and down. "Army are you?"

"I was, for a time."

"But for now you're hungry." The woman held out her hand, "I'm Mrs. Patmore."

"John Bates, and you're possibly the friendliest person I've yet encountered since I came to this town."

"It's a small place where people keep to themselves, that's for sure." She took her hand back, "What can I get you?"

"Your special and whatever else you think I'd need to convince me to only ever breakfast here." John pointed to a table, "Is this fine?"

"Take any seat you want with a request like that." She almost turned to make her way into the kitchen before heaving a sigh. "There she blows."

John held the back of his chair to get a view through the window of an old woman, leaning determinedly on a cane he was sure could be used to beat off offending preachers or townsfolk, marching down the street. "Who?"

"The mayor's mother. She's got a bee in her bonnet about something, make no mistake about that." Mrs. Patmore shuddered, "I'd hate to see who made the mistake of getting in her sights."

John swallowed, "I think so too."


	3. You've Got Trouble

The doors to the library burst open and the two women at the desk looked up. Distinctive clacks of a cane beat on the wood until the thunder of a book dropped with definitive force brought everyone's attention to the echoing thud. Heads turned and whispers tittered over the floor while the old woman with a ridiculously large hat squared off against another older woman and a short blonde woman holding their ground on the other side of their desk.

"What is this?" The first woman gesticulated with her cane, practically flailing at the book forming the battleground between her and the other women.

"A book, I imagine unless the definition of what constitutes a book has changed." The older woman handled it, "Yes, it does appear to be a book. One of our books to be precise. Returning it, are you? How kind."

"Don't change the subject Isobel Crawley," The first woman brandished her cane, "I came here for a reason."

"I doubt you do anything without one, Cousin Violet." Isobel smiled, taking the book off the counter, "If you're not pleased with the book I can suggest another."

"That's the problem," Violet held herself up on the cane, "You can't stop suggesting things to everyone. Especially to dear Sybil whose head you now filled with all sorts of unacceptable thoughts that I must take upon myself to stamp out."

"She's a mother for that and I believe Cousin Cora does a fine job in that department."

"Ha!" Cousin Violet almost snorted, "You're very funny when you want to be."

Isobel turned in confusion to the woman next to her, who only shrugged her own feelings, before turning back to Violet. "I recommended this book because Sybil expressed a desire-"

"Girls don't have desires until they're married. After marriage their husbands tell them what to want. Before that their mothers tell them. Since you are neither her husband nor her mother it's not for you to give her any ideas at all."

"I disagree."

"You would but that doesn't matter." Cousin Violet gathered herself, "Keep this book and any others you hide away here in this den of suggestive iniquity away from my granddaughters. Good day, Isobel."

Reversing her dramatic entrance, Cousin Violet left the library just as she did everything... with extraordinary drama. Isobel looked at the book's spine before handing it to the blonde woman. "I guess the story of Florence Nightingale is subversive now Anna."

"I guess." Anna took the book, "I'll put this with the books banned for the Crawley girls shall I?"

"If that were the case we'd need to use chains to lock the library doors." Isobel waved a hand, "That's what she'd think about everything in here."

"A good library has something to offend everyone." Anna set the book on top of a larger stack, hefting it with care. "I'll just sort these away shall I?"

"I can do that." Isobel tried to reach for them but Anna stepped back with them, shaking her head.

"No thank you Mrs. Crawley, I can do it."

Isobel sighed, "If you say so."

Anna paced quietly around the library, shelving the books in their appropriate sections before returning to the desk. Isobel turned from Anna to the clock and then back to her. "Could you get our lunch order from Mrs. Patmore's before the afternoon rush? I don't want her feeling out of sorts if we get it when she's buried in the deluge of workers on lunch break."

"Of course Mrs. Crawley."

"Anna," Isobel put a hand out to her, "You can call me Isobel since I work for you here and not the other way around."

"But we don't need everyone to know that." Anna shrugged, "I prefer for people to think I work for you, Mrs. Crawley, and it's better to keep up our appearances."

"If you insist but I really think-"

"I'll just get that lunch now shall I?" Anna took her handbag and hat from under the circular desk. "I'll be back soon. I expect it's sandwiches."

Anna walked out of the library, keeping a measured pace with her head down as she worked her hatpin through her bun to hold her hat in place. Just as her head came up she ran into someone. Her hands came up to stop herself and impacted on the man's chest and hands clasped over her wrists.

Her blood ran cold and she wrenched herself away from the man. With shaking hands she tried to gather her breath and arranged her handbag on her arm. She coughed, trying to push past the man but he rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'd suggest you remove your hand please, sir." She faced him, rolling her shoulders back to stand taller and he immediately took a step back.

"I just wanted to apologize for running into you. I wasn't paying any attention and thought you deserved my apology." He raised his hat off his head, holding it between his hands, "I seem to've startled you rather severely and that's my fault."

"No," Anna ran her palms down her skirt, pushing it down with a swallow. "It's more than alright and I wasn't paying any attention either so I guess we're both at fault."

"Seems we are." He tapped his hat on his hand before using it to point down the street. "Might I suggest we pop in there to make sure neither of us are suffering any ill effects because of our little tussle here?"

"I'm sure you're no worse for it than I am so I'll decline your offer but thank you for the intention." She nodded at him, "I hope you have a lovely day."

"And I hope the same for you." He laughed a bit as she started to walk away and Anna stopped to turn back to him.

"Is there something funny sir?"

"This is the third longest conversation since I've been here and the third most cordial so I was just laughing about how everyone seems a little less than pleasant."

"I'm sorry if you thought I was being more pleasant than just polite." Anna cast her eyes on the street. "People here've got an attitude that's less than welcoming to anyone they see as a threat."

"Am I a threat, miss?"

Anna studied him a moment and then nodded, "I can see you being a great threat to the people in this town."

"Am I a threat to you, miss?"

"No," Anna shook her head, "You're no threat to me at all."

"I'm John Bates then, traveling salesman." He held out his hand and Anna eyed it a moment before offering her own.

"Anna Smith, librarian and piano teacher."

"You play piano?" Mr. Bates tucked his hands in his trouser pockets, smiling to himself, "You must enjoy teaching all these young ones to tap out rhythms and melodies on the ivories then?"

"As much as they can but most only escape with the know-how to bang out 'chopsticks' before they quit or their parents think it's a frivolous waste of money."

"Then the children in this town aren't overly musical?"

"I think anyone could have an ear for music but, as I said, most think that it's a waste of time when there's work to be done."

Mr. Bates shuffled a moment, squinting before turning his attention to her again. "What about the summer though?"

"That's the busiest time for most of them."

"What about the ones not busy?"

Anna frowned, "I'm not sure I appreciate whatever implication you're making about the pastimes of our youths, Mr. Bates."

"It's nothing horrible, I promise."

"You're a salesman, Mr. Bates," Anna shrugged, "What else could it be?"

"A way to keep people off the streets and out of trouble." He nodded to her, replacing his hat, "It was good to meet you, Ms. Smith, and I hope we get this opportunity again."

"I doubt that'll happen so don't make a thing of it when it doesn't." She gave a quick smile, "I'll be on my way now and you'd best be on yours."

Anna left him, walking up the street to Mrs. Patmore's to collect the lunch basket and returned to the library. Isobel motioned her over and took the basket from her so Anna could remove her hat. Once her things were sequestered away Anna filed through the new books stacked on the desk before grouping them.

"Did Mrs. Patmore keep you long?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You don't normally take that long." Isobel wrote something in a ledger, noting the spines on the books before passing them back over to Anna. "Unless she wasn't busy this morning and wanted you to chat."

"She had a few patrons but no, someone else." Anna picked up a stack of books, moving around the desk in front of Isobel, "There's a salesman in town."

"Salesman?" Isobel snorted, "He won't last long here."

"This one seems to think he'll succeed because he's persistent."

"Is he charming?"

"He thinks he is I expect." Anna nodded, "I'll be back in a bit."

The day passed like any other after that. Anna filed away the books, waving goodbye to Isobel when she left for the night. A check of the books had Anna making a few notes before signing off on a receipt before locking up the library.

As she left the library she heard something from the park. Anna frowned, walking toward it as someone pushed by her at a jog. She stopped, stepping back as a few more people ran to join the collective gathering at the statute of the town founder in the middle of the park.

She snorted to herself, putting the back of her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh as the town stood in awe of a presentation in front of the statue. Looking more closely she noted the rapture, the engagement, and the skill needed to ensnare the people. The speaker gesticulated with his hands, calling everyone to attention while occasionally pointing to the crowd. They gasped and exclaimed in perfect synchronicity with his cues before mobbing the man.

Anna went to leave when she recognized the man. Stopping to look closer her mouth dropped open. It was the salesman, John Bates enthralling the crowd.

Their eyes met and he winked before leaping through the crowd toward her. Anna hurried toward the street, trying to ignore his voice, but he persisted. When he came up beside her he smiled.

"You missed the presentation."

"I'd call it a performance."

"They can be one and the same." He smiled but Anna stayed stoic.

"If you intend to swindle this town, Mr. Bates, I'd suggest you steer clear of the Mayor and anyone else. They'll run you out of town on a rail if you do anything to hurt them."

"Then I won't because I'm here to help."

"You are?"

"Of course I am." Mr. Bates held himself higher, "You've got trouble here Ms. Smith. Trouble in Downton."

Anna rolled her eyes and walked away from him.


	4. Piano Lesson

Mr. Bates jogged to keep up with her, "I actually need your professional opinion on something, Ms. Smith."

"Unless you need the Dewey Decimal System or you need to learn your major and minor scales I'm of no use to you."

"You don't think I might be interested in learning scales?"

Anna stopped, raising an eyebrow as she turned to stare at him. "I don't think you're interested in anything I have to offer."

"This conversation would say otherwise."

"This conversation is a distraction, nothing more, and I only have this to say about it." She stepped close to him, tipping her head up to look in his face. "You're a salesman, like all the rest, and whatever help you think you're bringing to this town is a ruse."

"I'm only here to-"

"To take our money and then leave us destitute while you crow over our ignorance and how you robbed us blind."

"I assure you, Ms. Smith, that I deliver on all the things I promise when I make a sale." Mr. Bates bowed to her, "I guarantee you, all of my words are truth and I don't lie."

"You lie with every breath you breathe through your teeth." Anna turned back to her path, ignoring him.

Mr. Bates grinned, keeping pace with her, "What have I done, Ms. Smith, to earn such ire from you? We've barely met."

"The last salesman who came through this time tried to sell us a bridge that didn't exist and we barely stopped our bank paying him the funds."

"I'm here to sell a pastime." Mr. Bates pointed back toward the center of town. "Like I said, you missed my presentation."

"And as I said," Anna stopped him with her tone, "I don't believe in witnessing the performance of someone who intends on taking money from people."

"Isn't that what you do?" Anna widened her eyes and he continued, "You take money from people in exchange for services you provide."

"It's not nearly the lie you sell."

"We're all selling something." Mr. Bates insisted and Anna scoffed.

"Not like you are, Mr. Bates."

"No one sells anything quite like I do."

"That's what worries me." Anna shook her head, "Whatever you hope to sell to them and whatever you think you can sell to me are two different things, Mr. Bates, and I promise that I'll do all I can to make sure you succeed in neither of them."

"Is that a challenge, Ms. Smith?"

"It's a warning, Mr. Bates. A warning that I'm not so foolish as to fall for whatever you've brought to wow and woo this town. I'm smarter than you are and I warn you, I'll succeed in stopping you." Anna smiled, "If you're stupid enough to stay here and not put yourself on the next train out of town."

"I don't give up on a fight."

"Then you've made a terrible error." Anna nodded to him, "Good evening, Mr. Bates. I do hope you enjoy your evening and that whatever supper you choose for yourself and that we never meet again."

"While I hope that we continue to meet."

Anna rolled her eyes and walked away from him. "Good luck to you on the next town you decide to visit."

"What if I want to stay here?"

"I wouldn't suggest that." Anna turned down her street, opening the gate to one of the houses and closing it just as he approached.

He grinned at her, settling his weight on the pickets, "I'd hate for us to leave this situation so crossly."

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm only in town a short while and-"

"Good." Anna spun on her heel and went inside the house.

She took a quick peek out the window and noted that he lingered a moment before tapping the top of the fence and walking away. Anna shook her head, unpinning her hat as a woman entered the entryway with a bowl in her hands. With a nod of her head toward the door she spoke.

"Who was trying to walk you home Anna?"

"No one I wasn't eager to be rid of." Anna set her handbag down, arranging her things before removing her jacket. "Some new salesman."

"I heard part of his advertisement when I was walking through the square." The woman shrugged, going back toward the kitchen, "Seemed sincere and fascinating to me."

"Don't listen to a word he says Gwen." Anna followed her to the kitchen, putting her hands on the table there was Gwen poured the bowl's contents on the table and started kneading bread. "He's a shyster, like all the rest of them."

"I'm sure he is." Gwen ground out the dough, pulling it back to start again, "But the people in this town could use something to listen to and that's what we've got."

"We don't need what he's offering."

"We could do with a little entertainment." Gwen tipped her head at the banging of the back screen door, "A little softer there, William, we don't want it breaking because you don't know your own strength."

"Sorry," William tipped his head toward them. "And how are my fair cousins?"

"Fairer if we didn't have to worry about a salesman in town." Anna snuck a pinch of dough, nibbling at it under Gwen's glare. "He's up to no good."

"We don't know that."

"Anyone who can rile up the crowd like that isn't about to sell us anything we actually need." Anna waved a hand, "No one has to convince you to buy flour or a new rake do they?"

"Sometimes people have to be convinced to have a little fun." Gwen commented pointedly, enduring Anna's glare. "It wouldn't do you any harm to give the man a bit of slack since he's not a criminal."

"That we know of."

"Don't be so unkind Anna, you don't know him." Gwen insisted but Anna only huffed her argument.

"I thought he had an incredible presentation." William found a few things, pulling them off the shelves to hand to Gwen. "You should've heard him. I'm sure he could've sold water to a man next to a well."

"That's doesn't make me feel better." Anna pinched another grab at the dough before going back to the entryway to respond to the knock on the front door. As she opened the door Anna smiled, "Hello Daisy. Come in and we'll start your lesson."

"Thank you Anna." Daisy pulled her music closer, stopping in the middle of the hallway as William appeared from the kitchen. "Hello William."

"Hello Daisy." He maneuvered his jaw, as if trying to find more words. "I hope you're doing well at Mrs. Patmore's."

"Well enough, thank you." Daisy ducked her head and hurried into the parlor.

Anna watched William's face fall and walked over to her. She rubbed his arm, "She'll come around William."

"Maybe." He ducked his head, hurrying up the stairs to the second floor.

Anna sighed and followed Daisy into the parlor. The girl already opened the piano and tapped out the scales. Taking the seat next to her, Anna flipped through the music before placing one before Daisy.

"Let's start with this one shall we?"

"Alright." Daisy started on the music, Anna correcting her as they went.

When Daisy finished Anna made a few notes on the music before handing it back to her. "I think you've improved a lot Daisy."

"It's because you've made it so easy to understand." Daisy arranged the music in her hands, "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure Daisy and it takes up time." Anna led her to the door where Daisy stopped, turning to face Anna.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Anna clasped her hands together. "What question?"

"Do you think William likes me?"

"I think William likes you a lot." Anna waved a hand toward the upstairs. "He's just shy and doesn't always express himself well."

"But he fancies me?"

"Very much." Anna took a breath, "I think you just need to courage to take the chance on his next invitation."

"But…" Daisy shuffled in place, "Thomas has been implying that he likes me."

"I don't think Thomas is the man for you." Anna worked her jaw, "He's… different."

"I know, that's what I like about him."

"Daisy…" Anna sighed, "Make your choices wisely and don't forget that William really does like you."

"Is there anyone who likes you?"

Anna shook her head, "I don't think so. I'm sure that I'm in no one's thoughts and I haven't caught anyone's eyes."

"I don't want to be like that." Daisy mumbled and Anna caught her breath. Looking up Daisy noticed Anna's expression and tried to retract her statement. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Anna held up a hand, shaking her head. "Think nothing of it. They're just words."

"I-" Daisy nodded, opening the door. "Goodnight Anna, I'll see you in a week."

"Yes, for our next lesson."

Anna waited for Daisy to leave, locking the door behind her. As she turned back to the stairs Gwen came from the kitchen. She leaned in the doorway, folding her arms over her chest.

"The lesson didn't seem to end well."

"It's nothing I haven't heard before." Anna put her hand on the bottom of the banister, tapping her palm against it. "I'm used to it."

"Anna-" Gwen put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't have to be used to it."

"There's no other way out of it." Anna flailed her hands, "I live here, there are rumors about me, there are stories that people tell about me… there's no escaping that kind of shame."

"You could move somewhere Anna."

"Where?"

"Anywhere, you're not restricted in your options."

"I've got nothing if I leave here." Anna gestured to the house around them. "This house, the library… all of it depends on my continuing to stay here."

"You don't owe us anything, Anna."

"You're my cousin, I'm William's cousin," Anna let out a breath, "You're the only family I have and this is the only place I have a life."

"What kind of life, Anna?"

"Enough of one to feed me and that's all I really need."

"Life is about more than survival."

"Not for me." Anna headed up the stairs, "Not for me."


	5. Goodnight, My Someone

John headed back to the hotel, winking at Talbot. Talbot broke away from speaking to someone and joined him up the stairs. "What's the news?"

"Apparently you've caused quite the stir."

"That was rather the point of this venture." John ascended the stairs, Talbot keeping close at his heels.

"But you don't realize what you've done." Talbot insisted, slipping around John to stand in front of the door to his room so he could not get in. "You're causing trouble and that's not good for a town like this."

"And why not?" John put a hand on Talbot's shoulder, shifting him to the side, "Town like this needs a bit of shaking up. That's what I said earlier."

"Because this isn't like Detroit or New York or even Columbus," Talbot followed John into the room watching as John flipped the catches on his suitcase to open it. "The people here do boil tar and pluck feathers while they assemble their pitchforks and load their guns."

"You're being dramatic."

"You weren't here the last time someone tried to make a pass at the Mayor's estate and I was."

"You say that like you endured a war."

"It was like one."

"No," John sobered, "I know what war is like and I can assure you that if you'd lived through one you wouldn't bandy that title around so lightly."

"John," Talbot came around the bed, closing the lid on the case and forcing John to look at him. "You're playing with fire here and it's not like the fire you've played with before. You toy with these flames and you'll burn yourself. It won't be pretty and it certainly won't be fun."

"You make it sound like this is a game."

"No, you act like it's a game." Talbot held up his hands, "I know that we had some fun, in the past, riling up crowds and selling them on the newest 'what's what' and all that but this is serious."

John narrowed his eyes, "Because it's your life now?"

"I live here John. I've seen these people work and play and while I admit, with a full recognition of their own oddities and idiosyncrasies, that they're not the best people I've ever met… they actually are. These are good people John and I can't bear to watch what'll happen to them when you pack up your tricks, take their money, and hop the next train at the junction to leave for a new place."

"Afraid I'm leaving you to pick up the pieces here Henry?"

"I'll be left here John and you won't." Talbot crossed his arms over his chest. "You've had your fun but I think you need to leave in the morning."

John leaned back, hands on his hips. "What's going on?"

"I just told you."

"No you appealed to my emotions and my honor without telling me anything." John pointed a finger at Talbot, "What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Do you think me being here'll risk your chances with your Mary?"

"She's not my Mary."

"But you'd like her to be."

"Of course I would but-" Talbot growled, "It's not going to be like old times John."

"I didn't ask you to help me and I don't need your help. I've been fine on my own since you scarpered off."

"I did that to-"

"That wasn't a recrimination, Henry, just an observation." John chewed the inside of his lip, "What are you afraid I'll do? Steal their money and leave them without instruments? Not sell them the promised uniforms?"

"You haven't promised any of that."

"But I intend to, at the Flag Day presentation at the school gymnasium." John winked, "I've got a whole presentation planned to bring everyone off their feet."

"You can't do that to them John. They're barely recovered from the last Depression, they're run off their feet, and they've not got time to waste."

"You sound like the librarian piano teacher, Ms. Smith."

Talbot paled, "You met Ms. Smith?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing," Talbot tried to shrug it off, "It's nothing."

"Henry," John came around the bed, "What do you know about her?"

"Enough to know you should leave her be."

"What is it you think I'd do to her?"

"Flirt her, charm her, keep her on her toes so she doesn't smell your lack of experience like stink on a mule."

John huffed, "I'll have you know that I've perfected the art of the perfect deflection and I'm not going to be had by a librarian who moonlights at piano."

"She doesn't moonlight at it. She's really as good as advertised."

"Really?"

"Anna Smith was a concert pianist who performed at Carnegie Hall, John. She's not to be trifled with and you'd best leave before she gets anyone else to see what you're up to."

"Carnegie Hall?" John hummed, "What brings such a noted musician all the way to the bush after such a debut?"

"Family troubles or some such. She lives with her cousins and they all manage the properties left them by their parents."

"They needed her for that?"

"No, that's just what she does." Talbot went to leave but John stopped him.

"Then why should I stay away from such a talented and industrious woman? Seems like just the type to intrigue me?"

"Because she's damaged goods John and if she doesn't smell you out in your deception then any of your associations with her'll put you on the wrong side of everyone in this town."

"I'm already there Henry."

"No, you're just an annoyance in their eye-line at the moment. Make a move toward Anna Smith and you'll be buried in scandal and rumor before you can flip out that pad and talk about the benefits of a nine-year-old boy with a trumpet."

"What's got Anna Smith shrouded in such mystery?"

"I'm not a gossip and, to be honest, I don't believe it so it doesn't bear repeating."

"Then why tell me in the first place?" John groaned, "You're just running a circle here and it's not helping."

"You want the chatter about her then you can hang around the gaggle of women who like to twitter and peck on those things." Talbot shifted around John, "Just know that you should leave her alone, leave this town, and don't come back unless you're just passing through."

John waited a beat as Talbot went to the door, "I'm staying, Henry. If that puts you and I on the outs then I understand but I'd like to take the moment and request professional courtesy."

"I'm always a professional John." Talbot closed the door behind him and John turned to open his case again.

"This town just gets stranger by the minute."

* * *

Anna smoothed her finger over the keys, pressing down gently enough that the hammers could not fully strike the taut strings. Closing her eyes she felt the music flow through her but never make a sound. Her movements, careful and calculated, depressed the keys without making any sound until she finally finished the song only she could hear.

The silence rung in her ears like the music, a distant clapping taunting her as she closed the lid and turned to the doorway. Anna's hand went to her heart as she saw Gwen standing there. "Did you need to scare me?"

"Did you need to play silently?" Gwen folded her arms over her chest. "It's not like William and I wouldn't love to hear your music."

"It's a part of another life now." Anna tapped the lid, standing as she did so. "It's better times long gone."

"They don't have to be."

"They are and that's the end of it." Anna came to Gwen's side, "We've all got to let go of the past."

"But you haven't." Gwen shrugged at her, "Lie to yourself all you want but I know the truth and I know you're carrying around whatever weight you've anchored to your soul like it's your only lifeline."

"It is my life Gwen."

"It's not Anna, it's killing you."

"I'm not having this conversation again." Anna moved toward the stairs but Gwen put a hand on her arm.

"What happened was horrible. What the people in this town think happened is less horrible. But staying here to relive it and cursing yourself because you somehow believe it was your fault is the worst kind of horrible."

"It's my punishment Gwen."

"For what? Surviving?"

Anna closed her eyes, tears clouding her vision when she opened them. "I killed someone Gwen. I watched the life fade from his eyes."

"He hurt you, Anna. It was self-defense and the Sheriff ruled it that way when he found you. It's why he agreed to not tell anyone."

"That doesn't make it better." Anna nodded toward the piano in the other room, "I can't… I can't play that knowing where it led me."

"Walking down the street is as much to blame. Taking a soda from the fountain at Mrs. Patmore's is to blame. Reading books is to blame. Existing is-"

"Stop." Anna interrupted, "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"So you'd rather walk the town that thinks you're the Librarian instead of the library owner? The town that believes you seduced the great Alex Green instead of telling them what he did to you?"

"Better they think I lost my virtue to him in exchange for the Library and all it's books then be shunned or treated as the victim for what it really cost me."

"They shouldn't think either at all."

"But they do, Gwen, and that'll never change."

"Then why stay?" Gwen grunted, "I don't understand why you don't go to any of the orchestras in this country or performance halls or even take a position as a player on a steamboat for all I care just as long as you can leave this life behind you for good."

"This is my life Gwen. That…" Anna fumbled for words. "That girl who sat down to cheering crowds and basked in stage lights that made her eyes water and nose twitch died a long time ago."

"She could come back. She could play again, like she used to."

"It won't happen."

"I remember," Gwen took a step back, pointing with her arm and jabbing finger at the piano, "When that instrument would sing for you. When your fingers could move over it like the sky itself might bend at your command just to wring a moment more of beauty from the notes you could see with your eyes closed. When you could play for hours with all the pieces floating in your mind as they emerged from your memory."

"That's not how it happened."

"No?" Gwen snorted, "Because that's how I remember it. I remember all of us crammed into three rooms when we lived in Boston and how you risked it all to send what you could to us when we made our way out here. How you missed us so terribly but you knew you could do more playing to those crowds with more money than sense to help us than joining us out here."

"But I came out here eventually."

"It was for a visit, Anna. For the funerals and then you were supposed to go back. You were supposed to live your dreams and see London and Paris and Rome as you played all over Europe. You were supposed to dazzle them… not lose your light in this town."

"This town is all I have now. The great pianist Anna Smith no longer exists." Anna took to the stairs. "Like I said, she's dead."

"She doesn't have to be."

Anna did not respond, only picked up the edge of her skirt and walked the rest of the way to her room. Once there she turned up the lamp on her bedside table and sighed as she sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes focused on the wall where a few frames hung. One with a photograph of her after a performance, still seated at the piano, and smiling broadly. One with her certification and another with the invitation for performance. The last, a plea for her to return to the stage.

She hung her head, supporting her weight on her hands on the edge of the bed. "She's dead."

With a sigh Anna went to the window, opening the shutters enough to let the cooling night air waft in to replace the humid heat settled in the space. A flick of her eyes took in the lights of the town, extinguishing one at a time in a strange pattern known only to the universe in its minute variations, before she let her eyes go upward. Stars twinkled there and Anna steadied her breathing under their gaze.

"If there is anyone who could…" Anna stopped, swallowing back her words. With a determined shake of her head she persisted, "If there is anyone who could see past what I am now to who I was before and find a way to make me more her, I'd be ever so grateful."

Her voice barely tinged as a whisper, "If there's someone who could love me now, I'd like to meet them… I've lost all hope that there's anyone and I've given up." With a crack to her voice she finished, "I want to trust that whomever that is will come but I don't know where to look. I just want to find my someone… and have them find me."

As the heartfelt prayer to the universe faded from her ears, but not her heart, Anna turned toward bed.

* * *

John craned his head back, closing one eye and squinting the other to focus his view, to observe the top of the library. Risking a step back, he twisted a bit to one side. When a voice called out to him, older and kinder than the one he would recognize as Ms. Smith's, John stumbled a moment.

An older woman, perhaps his own age but with a different kind of wear and tear, stood to the side of the stairs. John pulled at his lapels to straighten his coat and lifted his hat in her direction while descending the stairs. "I apologize but I was just admiring the library."

"So early in the morning?"

"I don't sleep well and usually I take walks to help settle my overactive mind."

"You must not be reading the right bedtime material." The woman folded her arms in front of her. "Though I doubt you do anything but read those speeches you speak so prettily in public squares."

"Were you at the presentation last night?" John extended a hand toward her, "I'm so sorry I didn't have the chance to make your more formal acquaintance then."

"You seemed rather preoccupied with the other Librarian."

John blinked, "For a town of this size I wouldn't have guessed you could justify two librarians."

"We've quite a collection sir."

"John Bates, please." He still held out his hand and waited another moment as propriety forced the woman to finally take it. "And I'd expect you do if you need two such diligent watchmen to tend it."

"Did you practice that speech as well?"

"I don't practice speeches that use well deserved compliments." John smiled, "I do admit that you're far more genial than Ms. Smith was when I expressed my desires to stay in town."

"I didn't realize that was your intention but I think I know what Ms. Smith said to you since I hazard I know her well enough and I agree with her."

"You do?"

"I do." The woman pursed her lips, "Possibly not for the reasons she encouraged your departure but not far from the same lines I think."

"Given that the manager of the hotel that's taken me in for the night and both librarians of this fair town think I should leave I'm beginning to think there's something about this place I don't understand."

"One town is not like another, Mr. Bates, and this town isn't someplace you can breeze in to take what you want and then leave."

"You think I just want to strip it bare?"

"I think you've the air of a salesman who knows his trade a bit better than he does the land he's risked trampling now."

John smiled, "I may not know the land but I do know people Miss and I'd like to think I could find a thing or two that would benefit the nobility of this area."

"You must not know people well if you can't tell by my age that 'Miss' isn't the word to use."

"It is if you wish to pass a compliment." John waited, noting the hint of a blush. "I'd love to address you by your correct salutation and your name, if you'd be kind enough to provide it, so I can avoid the confusion in the future."

"Mrs. Isobel Crawley."

"A sincere pleasure, Mrs. Crawley, since yours is possibly the longest and most flattering conversation I've yet had here."

"I could see that." Mrs. Crawley bit her lip, "Would you like to see the library Mr. Bates? If only to give you something to appreciate before you leave town forever."

"What if I wanted to stay forever, Mrs. Crawley?"

"I think you'd need to know where you're staying first."

"According to the desk clerk this is a place where the people are stubborn, the weather is as harsh as the land, there isn't much room for strangers, outsiders, or salesmen, and I'd be a fool to think otherwise."

Mrs. Crawley laughed, "Then he told you straight."

"But see," John wagged a finger, other hand at his hip, "That's what people are comfortable being."

"And you see us differently, Mr. Bates?"

"Mrs. Crawley I see the whole world differently."

She frowned, "How do you accomplish that?"

John grinned, "Let me tell you a story about a musical conservatory in Indiana, if I may."


	6. Seventy-Six Trombones

Anna followed Gwen into the row at the school auditorium and took her seat on the hard bench nearest the piano. Gwen leaned over, speaking as low as she dared in the noise of the gathering crowd so Anna could hear but everyone else would be ignorant to their conversation. "I thought you weren't going to play the piano for them. Mayor Crawley was all excited about that player piano that he insisted he give you a break at all the public functions."

"He was but then it broke and Edith refused to play in public because Mary wouldn't do a solo." Anna side-eyed the instrument to her right. "I promised as a favor to Mary to appease her parents."

"Some favor."

"It's what friends do for one another."

"Please tell me again how you're friends with someone who never returns on those favors."

"That's not fair." Anna's face hardened a bit as her jaw clenched. "You know very well the favor she did for me."

"Anna-" Gwen stopped herself, eyes darting about as if to choose her words more carefully from the lexicon only she could see before her eyes. "You shouldn't have to pay that back eternally."

"It's my choice if I do."

"But-"

"Shhh!" They both turned as an older woman quieted them. "Have some respect. It's about to start."

"Why don't you-" Gwen went to say but Anna put a hand on her arm.

"We're sorry, Ms. O'Brien. We're quieting down."

As Ms. O'Brien redirected her disapproving gaze toward some teenagers making trouble at the other end of the gymnasium, Anna and Gwen exchanged eye rolls. But as Anna shifted on the piano bench, a thin woman with imposing cheekbones and dark hair to match her eyes signaled her from the curtain over the stage. Anna turned to the piano, cracking her fingers and stretching her arms a moment before putting her fingers lightly on the keys. With a released breath she began the steady tune of a patriotic song that had everyone else in the auditorium standing to put their hands over their hearts.

When the song finished, Anna rotated herself on the bench to see the stage, sliding to the side to keep Gwen within whisper distance. A man with gray hair and rolled back shoulders took to the stage, holding a pile of cards in his hand. He cleared his throat and the twittering of the gymnasium, crowded as they were on the bleachers and makeshift seats that stretched almost to the second-floor track that circled the room, quieted down to hear him.

"First of all, I'd like to welcome you all to our Flag Day celebrations. I know the original program called for it to be at Green Park but since there's rain… well, we don't want any of the ladies to get their nice hats wet." Polite laughter followed and he cleared his throat again. "Second, I'd like to thank Ms. Smith for filling in as our pianist given that the player piano broke."

His eyes narrowed toward a younger man sitting near the front row, who was too busy eyeing a dark haired girl up on the stage to notice until his friend elbowed him in the side. "I guess we'll never know how a brand new instrument proved so faulty."

The man finally met his eyes and took an obvious move back in his seat, shrugging as if to rid himself of blame but the older man's jaw still tightened and his lip twitched as if he wanted to sneer. Instead, he regained his composure and continued. "To continue with our program, I'd like to introduce my daughter, Mary Crawley, to the stage to tell you all about the fireworks spectacle we can look forward to this evening. Provided so generously to us by my mother and head of the school board, Violet Crawley."

The applause this time was a bit louder, whether because the name of the imposing head of the school board, clutching tightly to her cane from her position on stage, instilled it in them or because the men in town enjoyed the view of Mary Crawley walking to the front, was hard to tell. Anna leaned toward Gwen as she tugged at her sleeve. "You'd think she could manage to smile a bit."

"She's not putting on a show." Anna whispered back, focusing on Mary as the thin, tall woman took out her own card and read from it.

"According to Green Park's manager, Mr. Barrow, the fireworks will start no later than eight this evening. Provided, of course, that the rain stops by then."

"If we wanted it clear then we should've asked the paper to report rain." Someone's voice called from the overhead track and a number of heads craned back to try and identify the source of the voice. "We all know that Mr. Carlisle's paper only correctly reports the gossip and not much else."

"My paper," A lean man with a dangerous lilt to his voice, stood up from one of the front rows of the bleachers. "Is correct on all counts, Mr. Kent, and if I so much as-"

"As I was saying," Mary's voice broke through the argument and she glared Carlisle back to his seat. "If the rain stops before six pm, then it will be dry enough to send off the fireworks and we'll all enjoy them and the ice cream social at eight this evening. The Native Appreciation Brigade, headed by Mrs. Cora Crawley, is providing the set up and the cleanup will be under the direction of Mr. Barrow and the troop of Boy Scouts. Though new to our town, started only last winter, they are eager to do their part to serve the community."

She checked her card again before lowering it. "As it stands, I'd like to now give the floor back to my father, Mayor Robert Crawley, for the next step in today's proceedings."

Mayor Crawley took center stage again and Anna caught Mary's eye. The taller woman all but threw her hands up in surrender, to which Anna could only respond with a shrug. They turned their attention to Mayor Crawley as he reshuffled his cards.

"As I hope you all received a program today, the rest of the schedule will proceed as follows. We'll have a patriotic tableau from the members of the school board, a demonstration from our Native Appreciation Brigade, and a performance by the-"

Someone hissed loudly enough for Mayor Crawley to hear and he turned his head to see Violet Crawley beckoning him over. He frowned and held up a finger to halt the community for a moment while speaking in hurried whispers. By the way Violet Crawley gesticulated with her cane and the rising volume between the two of them, Anna rolled her shoulders to rid herself of the tickle running down her spine.

Finally, Mayor Crawley returned to the stage and continued… with a brief scowl toward his mother. "The school board will not, unfortunately, be giving us a patriotic tableau. There was some disagreement about costumes or some such and since they-"

"It was very simple." Isobel Crawley stood up from the front row, the four men beside her cowering in their seats instead of risking meeting Violet Crawley's eyes. "All we had to do was settle on how the flag was to be worn between the six of us."

"Was it that simple?" Violet Crawley stood, using her unyielding grip on her cane to do so. "I thought the difficulty was in the song choice. You insisted on 'America the Beautiful'."

"I thought it a better choice than 'My Country 'Tis of Thee' and you-"

"Ladies!" Mayor Crawley cut between the two, now so close between front row and stage their noses could practically touch. "I'd rather we maintain a level of decorum when we're in public, if it's all the same to the two of you."

They managed curt nods but Anna noted the daggers they shot one another as they returned to their seats, a blonde man next to Isobel Crawley immediately beginning a frantic whisper. She waved him off while the other three men managed to situated themselves more comfortably in their seats. Eventually they all settled and the crowd came back to order at yet another clearing of Mayor Crawley's throat.

"Since the tableau is cancelled, we'll continue with the presentation by the Native Appreciation Brigade and then the performance by the church choir." Someone hissed at him again and Mayor Crawley could not contain his groan as he turned to see his mother shaking her head. "I guess there's just the presentation and then we'll adjourn for the day… before we take another level of disappointment."

Anna turned back to the piano as Mary hurried to the side of the stage and down the steps. The sheet music in her hand quickly spread over the space before Anna's eyes and Mary counted her off to start playing a steady beat that matched the drum a woman, looking startlingly like an older version of Mary, led a group of young girls onto the stage, Daisy pulling up the rear. They formed a circle, keeping beat as they sung loudly in what they thought was the Keokuk tongue.

Cringing at the mispronunciation and the inability of the girls to keep on beat or in tune, Anna continued to play until Mary yanked the final page from her. Spinning around on the sleek wood, Anna faced the stage to see the lead woman holding up a fake Keokuk drum, dressed in what everyone admired as Indian dress, and called out a phrase Anna was sure she memorized incorrectly. With a quick look at Gwen, Anna grabbed her hand and squeezed.

"It's alright. At least they're trying."

"If John were here-"

"The last thing we need is the Board of Indian Affairs here to tell us how bad this is." Mary hissed at them, coming around the piano. "They're doing their best."

"Their best isn't-"

"We, of the Native Appreciation Brigade, will now teach you all the language of the people native to this land."

"Oh goodness." Anna breathed and Gwen could almost spit with the fury scrunching her face.

"I'll-"

"Don't you say a word." Mary tried to step at Gwen but Anna flung out her arm as unobtrusively as she could, trying not to draw attention to the potential scuffle near the piano. "That's my mother up there and if-"

"I'll say and do what I like about someone disgustingly misrepresenting the peoples of this area and if you think-"

"One is-" Cora Crawley bawled out to the room.

But before she could say another word, a loud bang echoed over the room. The trio of women ducked their heads and turned to the stage where bright lights and loud noises disrupted the gathering of girls. They shrieked and ran for it, tumbling over one another and the chairs of the representatives, as everyone tried to figure out what was going on. Mayor Crawley tripped trying to help his mother and his wife at the same time. Violet Crawley's cane swung out and whacked Daisy across the jaw hard enough the girl fell back unconscious. And she would have hit the floor if not for William, appearing from nowhere, catching her off the edge of the stage.

He tumbled back, hitting the ground hard on his buttocks, and toppled sideways into the four men sitting closest to Isobel Crawley. They tried to help him up but another series of explosions and lights had them shielding their eyes and dropping their hold so William crashed, again, onto the floor. Anna yanked Gwen and Mary back behind the piano, peeking out to watch the smoke waft and billow about the stage so all she could hear or see were shadows shouting at one another and the familiarly disapproving voice of Violet Crawley.

When enough of the smoke cleared, Mayor Crawley was nowhere to be found, Violet Crawley appeared disheveled with her face like thunder, Isobel Crawley was on stage examining Cora, and the other dark haired girl was comforting the gaggle of girls sobbing and shaking behind the curtain. Anna inched out from behind the piano, Mary and Gwen on her heels, and surveyed the damage. The smoking remains of two sets of firecrackers sputtered and wheezed on stage, the only evidence of the attack, and Anna scanned the crowd to see Mayor Crawley holding the younger man from earlier by the scruff of his neck and shaking him with all the energy he could muster while the man tried to wipe the soot from his fingers.

"Trying to kill my wife? Trying to blow her up?"

"They-were-just-fire-crackers." The man wheezed, clawing at Mayor Crawley's fingers to loosen his hold. "It-was-just-a-joke."

"Not so funny now is it." Mayor Crawley all but threw the man down. "This is exactly what I expected from you Branson. It's what comes of poor stock and bad breeding."

"Don't go talking about my breeding." Branson worked himself to his feet, brushing at his clothes and still desperately seeking to get the soot off his fingers. "If you can't take a joke-"

"My wife's catatonic and I'm apoplectic."

"I can tell."

"You watch your tone." Robert leveled a finger at him. "You've got no idea what either of those words mean."

"And I'm done having you insult me." Branson brought up his hands and Anna almost gasped but the other dark haired woman hurried over, dropping from the stage to stand between Mayor Crawley and Branson.

"That's enough. Tom just played a prank, Father, he didn't murder anyone." She whirled on Branson, "The fact that it was a nasty and not well thought-out prank is another story entirely."

"Stop standing up for the day laborer, Sybil." Mary came over, sniffing at Branson, "He's got to face the consequences of his actions."

"I'll stand up for who I like, Mary." Sybil kept her shoulders squared to her sister. "And if I know our father those consequences would be something ghastly."

"Reform school or the military." Mayor Crawley was now held back by Mary's hand at his chest. "I've still got friends who would take you and beat the insolence from you with a baton."

"Here's what I think of that idea."

But what exactly Tom Branson thought of the idea of a military baton, though Anna guessed she could have figured out what hand gesture Branson was about to give Mayor Crawley, never quite came to being. A loud trumpet drew everyone's attention and it quieted the gymnasium that now smelled of smoke and rang just a moment before with the loud voices of arguing people trying to escape or avoid trampling from those running for the doors. Everyone turned to examine the track that ran above their heads and jumped as a thumping noise echoed from the stage.

It was as if the room turned as one to see a man, dressed in red, standing with a tall hat that waved an obnoxious feather high above his head. He doffed his hat, dramatically sweeping toward the floor in a dramatic bow before he straightened. In the millisecond it took for the hat to return to his head, he met Anna's eyes and winked. She bristled at the sight of John Bates front and center on the stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may beg your indulgence. I know I wasn't featured on your program but I only arrived in town three days ago and it's been quite the journey to get here." He set his hat carefully, taking advantage of the stunned silence. "I'm sure you're all confused as to who I am and what gall I must have to stand before you, dressed as I am, but I promise that you'll want to hear what I have to say to you."

No one could argue. Anna hazarded a guess that no one could speak. The shock of the firecrackers combine with the surprise of a stranger taking their stage and the tension of not only being curious what he might say but wondering how long until violet Crawley's stick flew out again to beat him from the wood. They took their seats again, some of them almost sitting on other people, enthralled as they were by the surprise of the moment.

"Now, by way of introduction, I am John Bates and I need to tell you all of the serious trouble facing your town. Trouble I'm sure you've heard from your pastors and your preachers will bring about the end of days. Trouble that'll have your young children running from home to go to dance halls where they're dress as libertines and layabouts. Trouble that means their chores go undone, they go unwashed, and suddenly you're not raising a righteous generation, you're cowering from the masses of unintelligible and uneducated heathens. The very people our august Violet and Isobel Crawley seek to fight with every breath left in their nobly distinguished frames. The very people you hope stay far away from this haven you've built in the wilderness."

He jumped from the stage but all eyes stayed on him. "That is why I am here today. Why I came to this town. Not to preach repentance or call you all to hear me minister, no. That's for better men than myself. A calling I could never heed and a cross I could not bear." Mr. Bates turned a slow circle, the room quiet enough to drop a pin. "No, I'm here to heal the trouble the way I can with the means I have."

"What's that?" Kent's voice came from the track above and Mr. Bates craned back enough to see him and then pointed with a thrust of his arm.

"Music, my good man. With the first Downton Boy's Band." The twittering began again but it ebbed as Mr. Bates continued his speech. "I'm not healer and I'm no preacher but I am a teacher and I plan to teach those boys you'd entrust to me how to play the instruments the Good Lord left on this earth so we could make beautifully sweet music. I'm here to call them from the raggedy edge of trouble in their return to the light and the right."

Mr. Bates managed to get himself back onto the stage, the room hushed. "I'm here to lead them to salvation through music and by leading the Downton Boy's Band."

"How?" Mr. Bates found Ms. O'Brien in the crowd. "We've already got the Scouts and Thomas is more than capable of managing them."

"I'm talking about something beyond scouting." Mr. Bates batted her question away is if he could deflect the negativity in her scowl as well. "I'm talking about the step further we need to go. Does it not say in the Bible that, when asked, we go the required mile and then walk the second?"

The older women in the crowd nodded, marking one another to share their agreement around. Anna just rolled her eyes, burying her face in her hand a moment before turning to see Gwen. Her face, like all the others in the room, turned to Mr. Bates with rapt attention. When Anna tried to shake her, Gwen just shrugged the motion away.

"These children of yours, the precious boys and girls you see before you, are at war with a world that seeks to have them smoking behind your outhouses, trading magazines with filthy images, and learning to bet on everything and anything." He paused, his smile twitching upward. "Things like, pool."

The room flew into an uproar. Wives turned to husbands, their barrages of frustration and anger almost burying the men before they could mount responses. Those replies were met with slaps to the back of heads of boys nearest them, whether or not those children were theirs was another matter entirely. The boys tried to cry out or give their own responses but the next level of frustration rose almost to a fever pitch.

At this point the trumpet blew again and Anna scanned the rafters to see a lanky figure. She squinted and nudged Gwen hard enough in the ribs to get her attention. With a frown, Gwen turned to Anna but she just pointed upward. Gwen followed the path of her arm and dropped her jaw.

"What's Henry Talbot doing up there?"

"I was wondering the exact same thing." Anna scowled toward Mr. Bates and then raised her voice. "I thought you said it was just the Downton _Boys_ Band."

Mr. Bates frowned, finding her face in the crowd and then brightening slightly despite the furrow she kept to her brow and the underlying dissatisfaction with his performance. "Could you repeat your question Ms. Smith?"

"You said you wanted to start the Downton Boys Band but then you mention the girls of this community. I just wonder where they fit into your scheme."

"No scheme but I'm glad you mentioned it." He pointed at her and then addressed the crowd, stopping their trains of abuse to whisper the question amongst themselves as well. "The girls need a way to exercise their energy and creativity and that's why I've envisioned a guard of talented dancers, acrobats, and flag wavers to bring the necessary color to the band."

The excitement in the room intensified as the girls squealed and immediately turned to their groups to discuss this with delight. Anna bit at her tongue, watching how Mr. Bates's face brightened, and only sat when Gwen's hand at the back of her skirt tugged hard enough to land her ass heavily on the bench. Mr. Bates held up his hands and, as if they were his orchestra and he the conductor, they quieted.

"I know that I'm a stranger to you. But I've seen the world and I know the turmoil just waiting to overrun your houses and your town. I know the struggles you face to raise your children right and I present, here and now, the solution. Join with me and start the Downton Boys Band."

The cheers in the room could only be matched by the grinding of Anna's teeth.


	7. Sincere

John counted the money and passed it over to Talbot, marking it down under the name of child before holding up his hands. "Your hands out like this please." The boy matched his pose and John examined them before nodding, "Clarinet, you've got the spread for it and I bet you can whistle really well."

"Yes sir." The boy demonstrated with a shrill sound that had John blinking away the ring of pain in his ears.

"Perfect." He ushered the boy away. "Next!"

The next child was ready to present their hands when a shout of "grab him" had John half-standing. But no one noticed because of the shrill screams of the women moving out of the way as the perpetrator of the firecrackers darted into the corridor and tried to avoid the grabbing hands of the Sheriff and Mayor Crawley. He missed a woman and then crashed headlong into John as the latter man rounded the table where he took his notes.

They both tumbled sideways into it, knocking the chair to skid across the hall as they upended the table. Notes flew everywhere and the children gathered around the table cried out before seeking refuge with their parents. John tried to stand, helping the other man, but two sets of hands grabbed his roughly by the back of the neck and hauled him clear.

"Henry," John motioned for a hand and Talbot bent enough to help him stand. "Thank you."

"Better get your notes."

"One moment," John held up a finger, straightening is jacket and hair to step toward the angry confrontation between the three men.

"You think you could get away after that stunt you pulled?" Mayor Crawley sneered at him. "Think you'd just get away to ruin someone else's day?"

"I didn't ruin anything." The man fought back. "If I did anything at all I made it more interesting than the racist display we were about to watch."

"How dare you?"

"Mayor," John stepped forward, inserting himself close to the man now giving him a confused look and the undisguised shock on the faces of the Sheriff and the Mayor. "I do apologize for not formally introducing myself or the plan, which I so inadequately explained to Mister…"

He turned to the man, who gained the light of realization a second faster than the Sheriff or the Mayor. "Branson."

"Right, Branson. I asked Mr. Branson for help with my musical proposal and he suggested a demonstration with a bit more energy than the one I originally planned. Unfortunately time was against us and I didn't have the adequate instructions before we had to perform. As you know, the show must go on and I-"

"I don't give a snowball's chance in Hell what you and Mr. Branson decided between yourself. He's the one who set off the firecracker and my wife was-"

"Perfectly fine, Robert." Isobel Crawley stepped forward, pushing the Sheriff back a pace to put her hand on Branson's shoulder. "She, your mother, and anyone else on that stage is also fine. Except poor Daisy Robinson but she'll recover and Mr. Mason saved her the increased injury of a fall."

"And we'll thank Mr. Mason in time. Right now'" The Sheriff tried to speak but Ms. Crawley interrupted him.

"If he's in the aid of Mr. Bates here then it's a simple misunderstanding. Communication errors happen when people want to make a bigger bang than they should while first meeting people." She turned to John. "I'm sure Mr. Bates here has plans for Mr. Branson and needs his help to make his venture for the Downton Boys' Band a reality."

"Ms. Crawley-"

"Mrs. Crawley," She clarified and John nodded at her.

"Mrs. Crawley, my apologies," John faced the Sheriff and the Mayor, "Mr. Branson's integral to the work that I'm doing here in Downton."

"And what kind of work is that exactly?" The Sheriff raised his eyebrow at John, who turned to Branson and opened his mouth to speak but Branson answered first.

"Mechanics." He swallowed and John nodded, smiling as he spoke.

"He's helping me with the music stands." John turned to Talbot, who shrugged and raised his hands in surrender. "If the band performs in parade we'll need a place to hold music."

"Won't they be good enough to memorize it?" Mrs. Crawley frowned but John snapped his fingers, pointing at her while never losing his smile.

"That's the hope, Mrs. Crawley, but we're open to the potential that not everyone is ready for the speed we'll need to perform in your Fourth of July parade."

"We don't have a Fourth of July parade." Everyone turned to see Violet Crawley coming toward them, handling her cane like a support and a potential weapon. "We stopped it a few years ago and-"

"We'll have one this year." Mrs. Crawley smiled at everyone, "Sheriff Carson, what do you think about allowing Mr. Branson here to leave with Mr. Bates so they can start preparing our youth to perform at the Fourth of July parade that we now have the pleasure of planning."

"Parade?" Sheriff Carson blustered, his face turning red and puffing up as he struggled to speak.

"Yes, a parade." Mrs. Crawley moved away from the group, smiling at Violet, "Isn't it exciting. We're getting another opportunity to plan a better parade."

"It's something." Violet Crawley's face scrunched and her lip almost twitched. "I guess we'll have to see what happens when Isobel Crawley is given the chance to do something significant."

"Very many things I do are significant." She huffed, walking away and leaving the group standing around staring at one another.

"Well," John took Mayor Crawley's hand and then Sheriff Carson's. "It's been a pleasure meeting you both and thank you for your support in this matter."

"I haven't-" Mayor Crawley started to speak but John cut him off, turning to Sheriff Carson.

"And I think I can take it from here about Mr. Branson." Branson went to speak but John dug his fingers into his shoulder. "There was no one hurt, no real harm done, and it's all just a misunderstanding so I'm sure you understand that it's all cleared up now and we've no need to take any more of your time."

He steered Branson away from the befuddled men and held fast as Branson tried to get away. "Not yet. Wait until they're not looking right at us."

"What?"

"Just trust me. I know what I'm doing." John turned on his heel toward the still waiting, and horribly confused, children and parents. "I'll be back here tomorrow morning, eight am sharp, to get the rest of the orders and assign the remaining parts. Band practice begins the day after."

"But they've not got instruments left." The woman with the pinched face from earlier called out, a man with perfect hair and a scowl beside her. "How they going to practice?"

"It's all part of the system ma'am."

"It's 'miss'." She called back, "Ms. O'Brien."

"My deepest sympathies." John guided Branson into a side room off the corridor and waited until Talbot joined them to face Branson. "Are you really skilled with mechanics?"

"Why? Need someone to get you a fast motor out of here?"

Talbot and John exchanged looks before Talbot spoke. "What does that mean?"

"Now I know you," Branson pointed at Talbot. "You work as the manager at the hotel and that's fine but there was always something fishy about what you'd say when you talked about your life before Downton. Or didn't talk about, if we're being honest, and I thought, 'Maybe he's got miles on him.' But you…"

"Me?" John raised an eyebrow, "What about me?"

"You're something else. A real huckster and con man."

"Contrary to popular belief, everyone always got exactly what they paid for when they bought from me."

"Right." Branson snorted, "I'll bet you've got this plan of yours, whatever it is, worked down to the last wave of the conductor's hand on the last train out of town. It's down to the second because you've played this racket so many times you know what you're about."

"I am skilled."

"You're a gambler, Mr. Bates, and I know what they are." Branson stuck out his hand, "Whatever you're planning, I want in on it."

"Why?" Talbot leaned back against the wall, "What's in it for you?"

"First off, you got me out of whatever they might've done to me for the stunt with the firecrackers-"

"Poorly planned and even more poorly executed, if I can say." John hissed through his teeth. "You never set it off where someone might see you. Always put yourself in the front to be seen if someone else is lighting the fuse because you need an alibi."

"I'll note that for the future." Branson ticked up another finger, "Second, you're the most popular man in town right now. For good or ill, hopefully more the former than the latter at the moment, and that's something to me."

"Picking yourself the fastest horse in the race?" Talbot shrugged, facing John. "I'd say he's just up our alley here John."

"I think so too." John stuck his hand toward Branson, "Welcome to the team."

"Thanks." Branson shook back, "Though we're still in a bit of a bind."

"How's that?"

"The only mechanics I know are those inside a car. I don't know anything about how to make marching music stands."

"That's good since they don't actually exist." Talbot shook Branson's hand as well. "But we are serious, Mr. Branson, about what we're doing here."

"The music thing?" Branson spluttered his laugh, "I doubt very much you're actually musical people."

"We do sell instruments and we are serious about how we do it." John sucked the inside of his cheek. "Although you're right, we're not actually musical people and we do have it all trained down to the last wave of the conductor's hand."

"And you need to keep these people hoodwinked until they're sure you're serious?"

"No, we're trying to keep them on the line so they will buy the instruments and the uniforms." Talbot put his hands in his pockets, walking toward the door. "And all of this is so we, that's you and I, can keep living here without getting run out on a rail."

"That's a tall order." Branson scratched at his cheek and then sighed, "But it's about what I'm dealing with now."

"You need an escape strategy of your own you know." John pointed at Branson. "Something to give you an exit out of a town that obviously doesn't appreciate you."

"We're all here for different reasons and I can't leave." Branson went to the door, waving for John to join him as he pointed out into the corridor. "She's why."

John noted the dark haired girl from the stage as she spoke with the taller presenter from the stage. "Which one?"

"Not Mary, obviously," Branson waved his hand away from the taller of the two. "Sybil, the shorter woman next to her."

"What about her?"

"She's… She's my everything. Or she would be if her father wasn't such a bigot." Branson shook his head, "He's… He's not likely to be much of a fan when he finds out that I've been walking her home from church on Sundays and we've been…"

"Walking other places together?" Talbot sniggered but Branson leveled a finger at him.

"Don't think I don't know what you've been hoping for when you walk Mary home from anything."

"Gentlemen," John raised his hands to quiet them both, "I think the issue here is not whether or not the two of you can find yourselves in synchronized fashion with your respective female friends. It's whether or not we can get the people in this town to buy the instruments and the music idea until the uniforms come."

"Well," Branson spread his arms, "I can get you the interest. There are enough kids around here who'll listen to me and any of the… rougher ones'll find a place in the band. At least long enough to get them off the streets."

"It's four weeks from ordering to get the uniforms to arrive and ten days for the instruments." Talbot counted out on his fingers as he paced the classroom. "If we can get them all interested enough in the instruments and some basic patriotic songs then we'll have them practicing for the parade they'll now be having on the Fourth of July."

"Do you skip before or after the parade?" Branson opened his hand to John. "I assume you're planning on skipping town once the uniforms come right?"

"It's how the game is played." John whistled a bit, "If you two could cover for me then we could find ourselves bidding goodbye to me the night before the parade. I just disappear and…"

"If the parade is a complete shit show then we just blame it on you, you're already gone, and the town sinks back into its drudge of existence." Talbot smiled to himself, "But what a time we'll have."

"What a time." John consulted his watch. "I need to get moving."

"Going where?" Branson turned to Talbot, who only shrugged his confusion.

"To make house calls." John held up the pad, "It's important to make the people trust you or they'll never buy your product, that's the first lesson anyone learns in salesmanship."

"If you can even get those people to talk to you then you'll be a miracle in and of yourself." Branson held the door open and John tipped his head at him before going into the corridor.

He left the school, waving and greeting any of the people who called out to him and taking measurements of the hands or arms to suggest instruments for the children. His feet hurried down the stairs, taking addresses and names as he went, and only stopped at the bottom when he saw Anna and a red haired woman conversing with a tall blonde man moving rather gingerly. John hurried toward them, taking his hat off to nod at the women and then extending a hand toward the man.

"John Bates, pleasure to meet you."

"William Mason." The man took John's hand, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I watched you save that woman off the stage. Very impressive." John looked him up and down, "Have you ever thought of playing the piano or perhaps a large drum?"

"He's got no interest in whatever you're trying to peddle, Mr. Bates." Anna stepped in the way, "And while you've hoodwinked all the other people in this town with your display in there, I'll have you know that you've not fooled me and you're not to come anywhere near my family."

"I've done nothing but compliment the actions of your…"

"Cousin," The red head specified, holding her hand to John. "We're all cousins in our house. I'm Gwen Dawson."

"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Dawson." John shot a look at Anna, "And I assure you, Ms. Smith, that I meant every word I said in there."

"Which only makes it all worse because it means you're more than just a con man trying to sell painted gold watches and glass diamond rings to us uneducated townsfolk." She took a step closer, "It means you believe in what you're doing and you truly think we need whatever you're trying to shovel down our throats."

"Anna!" Gwen snapped at her, "That's harsh for someone you don't even know."

"I'm sure we all could do to not know Mr. Bates here and whatever degree or certification he claims to have, though I thoroughly doubt all of his suggested credentials, because he's only here to get what he's after and then he'll be gone." Anna snorted, "I wouldn't care to know you better."

"That's a shame, Ms. Smith, especially since I studied at a musical conservatory in Indiana. Class of '05."

"Indiana?" Gwen turned to Anna and then back to John. "Your accent says differently, sir."

"Mr. Branson's accent says he's not from here either but he's settled here." John shrugged, "My trade has taken me farther afield than the land of my nativity, it's true, but it also brought me joy. And I found my calling in Gary, Indiana at the Conservatory of Music there."

"How nice for you." Gwen went to say more but Anna walked off. "Have a lovely day Mr. Bates."

"You as well." He raised a hand after her, turning and almost running into four men. Pausing, John studied them up and down before pointing at them. "Are you the other noted members of the school board?"

"We are." The only blonde in the group stepped forward. "Matthew Crawley, local solicitor. From what I gather you already met my mother, Mrs. Crawley."

"I probably have but you'll have to be more specific as to which 'Mrs. Crawley' is your mother." John shrugged, "I've counted no less than three in as many days as I've been in town."

"Mrs. Isobel Crawley."

"Then I'll just assume you do her a credit." John shook his hand and turned to the other three men. "And, you all?"

"Charles Blake," The shortest of the three took John's hand and pointed to the other two as he introduced them. "This is my good friend Tony Foyle, owns Gillingham's General store, and Evelyn Napier who owns the stables and leads our volunteer Fire Department."

"Notable men." John turned back to Blake, "And you?"

"I'm a landowner. Most of the farms within sight of town are mine."

"Impressive." John clapped his hands together, "Well, I won't assume that the four of you are gathered here just for introductions, given the importance of your many occupations, so how can I help you?"

"We're here for your certifications and degrees." Blake took lead from the other three men and John flicked his gaze from each in turn.

"My what?"

"If you're someone who claims a proficiency in music, Mr. Bates, then you've got to have some kind of certification of your skill." Matthew supplied, looking to the others for their nods of agreement. "If you're here as a salesman then you'll need a license for solicitation."

"Mostly we just need proof you are who you claim to be, Mr. Bates." Napier, the one at the end, clutched his hat in his hand and worried the brim a bit.

"Right," John reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. "This is my identification, for the moment, as I don't carry the rest of that information on me but I do hope it's enough to satisfy you."

They all crowded in to examine the card before pulling back. Tony, the tallest of the lot, spoke. "It's enough for now, Mr. Bates."

"Then I do hope to see you four this evening at the fireworks display." John pointed toward the cloudy sky. "It seems on the way toward clear."

"You never know with the weather here." Matthew adjusted his hat on his head, the other men doing the same. "It does as it wishes."

They all went to walk in separate directions before John called out to them. "I'm sorry, this might seem odd, but do any of you sing?"

The frowns worked over all of their faces as they eyed one another before Blake put a hand up. "I've done some. Operatic, but some."

"I sang in church." Napier offered as Matthew ducked his head.

"I've sung before."

"Why do you ask?" Tony noted the faces of his companions. "It is an exceedingly odd question."

"I'm a musical man and I feel the four of you share a unique tone. One I think you could turn into a lovely quartet." John wagged his finger at them, "If you'll meet me tonight, at the fireworks, I'll tell you what I mean."

He hurried away before they could say anything more to him. On his way back to the hotel he crossed paths with Mrs. Violet Crawley and stopped in the middle of the street. She narrowed her eyes at him and lifted her cane to point before disappearing into one of the shops.

John shuddered and then jumped as someone's hand came down on his arm. Mrs. Isobel Crawley stood there, smiling at him. "I apologize for frightening you."

"I was a bit distracted by what I think was a marking for my death." He motioned toward the shop. "Mrs. Violet Crawley."

"The Dowager?" Isobel snorted, "She's a tough one but she'll either pick you to pieces or leave you alone. There's no middle ground where she's concerned."

"What about where you're concerned?" John kept pace with her, jerking his thumb back toward the school. "I noticed how you stood up for Mr. Branson in there and you were very quick to help me."

"Is this where you question my motives the way everyone else seems determined to question yours?"

John laughed, "I'm just curious. This morning you were… not as sold as I believed."

"I'm of the belief this town needs something to shake themselves out of a rather dismal glut." Isobel crooked her finger at him, "And I already know your secrete Mr. Bates."

"And what's that, Mrs. Crawley?"

"That the town of Gary, Indiana wasn't built until nineteen-oh-six." She winked at John's gaping mouth. "I hope you have a lovely afternoon Mr. Bates."


	8. The Sadder but Wiser Girl

Anna scowled as she and Gwen passed Mr. Bates waving his hand in a demonstration with the four men of the school board gathered to listen closely. "What are four grown men doing listening to him?"

"He's charismatic Anna. This town deserves a bit of that."

"It doesn't deserve him." Anna shook her head, "He's only after our money."

"What does it matter if we get a bit of something interesting here as a result?" Gwen shrugged, "I wouldn't mind having something shake us up once in awhile."

"We're not drinks from a soda fountain Gwen."

"And we're not stone either." Gwen huffed, "Man is more than meat and I think that Mr. Bates is offering this town a chance to do itself a favor and let loose. It can't be all bad to think we might be a bit happier if we could let a few of our buttons go a day without being stuffed into a hole."

"If you want to go a day without buttoning your dress then you let that be your concern, not mine." Anna turned her head, noticing Mary motioning for her attention. "Make sure William's not making a fool of himself since Daisy's probably chasing Thomas down like a lost puppy."

"I make no promises." Gwen craned her head over the crowd. "John's supposed to be here by now but-"

"He'll be here. He's never missed a chance to spend time with you." Anna squeezed Gwen's arm and maneuvered through the evening crowds trampling the wet grass to reach Mary. "I do hope you're not about to beg me to play the piano again."

"That was a one-off." Mary waved a hand, batting away the issue before leading Anna toward a clump of secluded trees. "I was wondering if you'd told Matthew about… Our secret."

"I've had no reason to speak to Matthew Crawley." Anna folded her arms over her chest. "Did something happen?"

"He's gotten a bit cold toward me."

"It could be that he's realized Henry Talbot's also interested in seeking your affections." Anna snorted, "Add him to your desire of suitors."

"That's not funny."

"I quite agree. I think it's ridiculous you've got no less than five men all vying for your affections and you don't seem to like any of them enough to actually commit to them."

"They all represent different potentials."

"Now you sound like your father." Anna pulled her arms tighter to her. "What is this really about Mary?"

Mary dragged the toe of her shoe over the ground before speaking. "Kemal Pamuk wrote my father. He'll be back in town next week and I've a feeling he wants to discuss the situation of his old friend's estate."

Anna bristled, "He's not got any rights to it. The will was legal and binding."

"But he's got contention with it. And he believes my father had something to do with it."

"Your father had-"

"He notarized it." Mary shook her head, "I think he got in contact with Matthew because he's been giving me odd looks at family dinners. Not the kind of looks you want from someone you might want to marry."

"You won't even step out with him."

"That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point Mary?"

"That I think he knows something about the night Alex Green died and if he does then we need to know how much he knows." Mary bit her lip, "I know you never wanted to discuss it again and I wouldn't bring it up if-"

"I know." Anna nodded, sighing for a moment. "I hoped it was all behind me."

"We all did."

"I can ask Matthew." Anna put up a hand to stop Mary from speaking. "I was the one who killed Alex Green and I should be the one to ask Matthew if he knows that. It'll keep your father out of it and you'll not have to worry about ruining something."

"He'll know if I know. He's got this skill where he can see through me… Read me like a book."

Anna managed a small smile. "Then you should marry him so you can keep him on a leash."

"I'm not meant to be a local solicitor's wife."

"Then push him to politics." Anna pivoted to walk away. "Go distract your suitors and I'll talk to Matthew."

She weaved back through the crowd and found Matthew sipping from a glass while laughing with the other members of the school board… and John Bates. Anna set her teeth and forced a smile as one of the men noticed her and tipped his hat in her direction. "Evening Ms. Smith."

"Good evening Mr. Foyle." Anna faced Matthew, ignoring John. "Mr. Crawley, might I have a word in private?"

"Is it about a legal matter?"

"It's about the library and I want to ask your opinion about it before I broach the subject with your mother." She gestured over her shoulder to where Isobel Crawley and Violet Crawley engaged in a heated debate that only got louder the longer they spoke. "She's rather occupied at the moment."

"I understand." Matthew nodded to the others in the group and steered Anna toward the bridge over the stream that bisected the park. They stopped the gazebo, avoiding it when they noticed a gaggle of giggling girls there, and Matthew faced Anna. "What service can I render the library?"

"It's about the ownership and the deed for it." Anna pulled at her fingers as Matthew's edged around his glass. "You've seen the deed I think."

"When Mr. Green passed I was one of the ones who helped oversee the transfer of his effects, yes." Matthew frowned, "Have you been talking to Mary?"

"Why'd you ask?"

"Because she visited me at the offices the other day to…" Matthew stopped, "Is this about Mr. Green's death?"

"It's got a bit to do with that."

"And his friend, Mr. Pamuk?"

Anna took her turn to frown. "How'd you know anything about Mr. Pamuk coming to Downton?"

"He wrote me, asking to look over the dead and Mr. Green's will." Matthew sighed, "Mary read the letter when I left the room."

"Mary told me he wrote her father-"

"Mayor Crawley didn't know anything about this until I visited this afternoon." Matthew ground his teeth. "She must've been listening in."

"I don't know anything about that."

"And all I can tell you about any of this, without endangering my oath as a practitioner of the law, is that to tell you anything else breaks privilege." Matthew shook his head, "I knew she just wanted another chance with Mr. Pamuk after how short his visit was the last time he was here."

"It's got nothing to do with Mr. Pamuk." Anna stopped Matthew marching off, standing in his way. "Despite what you may think of Mary or Mr. Pamuk they're ancillary to this affair."

"What affair, Ms. Smith?" Matthew used his glass in his gesticulations. "I'm being conned by Mary Crawley for information about-"

"About a murder, Mr. Crawley." His jaw dropped and Anna continued. "Mr. Green's death is what Mary wants to find details about but she wanted those details to help me."

"Help you?" Matthew shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Mr. Green's death, while ruled an accident and judged that way by Sheriff Carson, wasn't entirely without active intention." Anna took a deep breath, almost tugging the fingers of one hand from their sockets with the force from the other. "How much do you know about Alex Green?"

"I know he had a rather large fortune and he left considerable assets to the town on his death. The Library was donated but all the books were left to you under the stipulation you stayed Head Librarian. His fortune, as it was, split evenly between the town, the hospital, the maintenance of this park, the library itself, and you." His scrunched his forehead, "That's all, as far as I can remember."

"Do you know why?"

Matthew bit his lip, refusing to meet her eyes. "I know the rumors they tell about it."

"Then let me set the record straight for you under the condition that you tell no one and realize you're only the fifth person to know this." Anna took a deep breath, "Alex Green owned the land my family worked. He was their landlord and, through some very despicable dealings, tried to swindle that land from them while I was away in New York."

"I remember there was some difficulty before your parents passed." Matthew shook his head, "But it was all legal. Unethical and I dare say immoral but legal."

"Exactly." Anna swallowed, "I came out there for the funerals and to resolve the issues about the land on behalf of Gwen and William. After days in law offices and at Town Hall I went to Mr. Green's home to discuss the situation and try and find a solution to it all. To appeal to his sense of dignity and honor. That's when… When…"

She could not meet Matthew's eyes. "After it happened he left and I went home. He came around the next day and handed over the deeds to my family's land, saying that the price had been paid. I tried to argue that it wasn't right, what he'd done, and he threatened me to silence. When I tried to run he grabbed me and so I fought back."

"And it killed him?"

"I believe his head wasn't as thick as I assumed and when I brought a candlestick around to defend myself I caught him in the temple." Anna let out a shaking breath. "He breathed his last on the rug in my foyer as Gwen ran for Sheriff Carson."

"He ruled it an accident. Said cause of death was that Mr. Green fell and struck his head on something. A tragedy but nothing more."

"I think Mr. Pamuk found details that would have him believe otherwise." Anna shook her head, "I… I only wanted my family's lands back and so I took those deeds. Whether or not the tender or 'services rendered' as he called them is legal I don't know but they're in my name and I want them to stay that way."

"And the other parts of his will?"

Anna shrugged, "I only knew about those when you informed me."

"So Mary-"

"Mary was trying to protect me."

Matthew sucked the inside of his cheek. "And she knows? About all of this?"

"Mary was at the house that night. She saw the whole thing." Anna tried to swallow again but her dry mouth and throat only rubbed raw. "Whatever you think of Mary, she's got a heart and she's used it for me. Her concern about Mr. Pamuk is entirely for my welfare, not her own."

"I almost feel selfish asking this but did she not tell me this because she promised you or because she was afraid of what I might think of her?"

"Both."

Matthew put a hand through his hair, upsetting the delicate balance of whatever product he had in it. "I don't suppose you would know anything about Mr. Pamuk."

"I only know he and Mr. Napier went to school with Mr. Foyle and Mr. Green. Otherwise I'm as ignorant as you." Anna shrugged, "I'm sorry to've put this on your shoulders Mr. Crawley."

"Ms. Smith," Matthew coughed, "Anna, I think you've helped me better understand a great deal about a very baffling case."

"Baffling?"

"Why would a man who had expressed no interest in anyone in the town leave you so much?" Matthew shook his head, "I believe he left you what he did as a double-edged sword."

"You understand Mr. Green's intentions?"

"I understand guilt, Anna. For all of his… sins, Mr. Green was still human. I believe he thought his money would absolve his crime. Similar to leaving you the deeds to your family's land, he hoped his actions might be washed away by it."

"Forgiveness isn't purchased, Mr. Crawley."

"He might've thought it could be."

Anna glowered. "If that's the kind of forgiveness he wants then I want no part in it."

"Regardless of what we want, Anna, I can put your worries to rest in the case of Mr. Pamuk. He'll not find anything amiss and any investigation he attempts to make will lead him nowhere. The will was legal, the deeds were notarized, and Sheriff Carson would rather die than risk that kind of scandal being public knowledge."

"I can certainly depend on the stubbornness of this town." Anna managed a small smile, stepping out of Matthew's way. "Thank you for your help Matthew."

"Thank you for not calling me 'Mr. Crawley'." Matthew smiled, nodding at her. "I do hope the rest of your evening is more enjoyable than this part of it was."

"As do I." She watched him leave and then walked toward the gazebo. As she reached it she noticed John strolling through the park, head turned up toward the sky. Taking stock of their position she tensed as he approached. "Can I help you?"

"Not sure I was looking for any assistance but you could tell me if there's any more to this park." John pointed back the way he came. "It's been a lovely little stroll but I've a feeling this park is a bit more expansive than this."

"It is but since it's after dark they want to keep people out of the woods and off some of the more dangerous paths. There are wild animals about."

"Wouldn't want to scare up the wildlife now would we?" John risked a smile but Anna could only tighten her jaw in her study of him. "Do you…"

"Do I what?"

"Do you mind if I sit?" John pointed to the benches in the gazebo and Anna moved to a far one as John took the seat closest to the exit. "I've been on my feet all day."

"There's no rest for the wicked, as they say."

"That would imply that my work is wicked, Ms. Smith."

"Isn't it?"

John paused, eyeing her with an expression she would bet mirrored her own. "I'm inclined to return your question with one of it's own."

"That's not answering."

"That's a matter of perspective. Much like this situation in which we find ourselves." John spread his arms, as if to encompass the town or an idea. "You think what I do is wicked and deceptive and a number of other things that I assume you have grown to dislike."

"No one likes salesmen, Mr. Bates."

"Not true." John wagged a finger. "People don't like the implication that they're missing something in their lives that another person must provide. That's very different."

"But you're not afraid to expose what people are missing?"

"Someone had to tell the Emperor he wore no clothes."

Anna snorted, "I think you forget that the first people to do so, in the story, were then killed for the trouble."

"Forward thinkers are often martyrs to their cause."

"Are you a martyr, Mr. Bates?"

"Can you ever have a conversation that doesn't feel like an interrogation?"

"Could you give me reason to?" Anna paused, almost letting a smile out at the sight of one spreading over John's face. "I'd say that you want to shake us out of whatever existence you find so depressing and then leave when it all gets boring."

"I'm not made for anything but a transient existence." John pointed at Anna. "Something I believe we might share in common."

"Might we?"

"I didn't realize it until the manager at my hotel-"

"Mr. Talbot?"

"Is there more than one hotel in town?"

"No."

"Then that's the one." John cricked his neck to the side for a moment. "He told me, when I asked about the lovely Librarian in town, all about Mrs. Crawley. And she told me that you were the other Librarian in town, which I believe cleared up a few things."

"Such as?"

"Your skepticism and your cynicism toward me." John clasped his hands together, resting his arms on his knees. "It also helped me remember where I needed to go to find out a bit more information."

"About?"

"Anna Smith, pianist." Anna stiffened but John waved a hand. "I read the papers and I remembered seeing one of your shows in New York. It was impressive."

"You didn't remember when you first met me?"

"I was in the very back of the hall."

"Sneak in did you?"

John laughed, "I got in by invitation of a lovely lady who, at the end of the day, did not appreciate the music as I did. However, and you'll excuse my memory, I seem to recall that the pianist I saw in New York smiled on occasion."

"I smile."

"Whether or not you smile is none of my business, Ms. Smith." John stood, "I'm not the kind of man who would demand it of you because I believe women deserve their time to be unhappy."

"You think I'm unhappy?"

"I think everyone's got something that makes them unhappy."

Anna leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms over her chest. "And what could the great John Bates have to be unhappy about?"

"The idea that I might've left anyone dissatisfied." John tipped his hat to her. "You have a good evening Ms. Smith."

He was about to leave when Anna called out to him. "What do you remember of that woman, at the piano in New York?"

John put his hand to one of the posts holding himself between staying and leaving. "If I tell you will I have a conversation with you that doesn't involve so many questions directed just at me?"

"Maybe."

John retook his seat. "I remember her smile. There was… an effervescence to her. One you only see on those doing what they love. The notes spoke to her, the conductor could only stand back in awe, and she wove magic in the very air as she played. I remember a woman, dressed to present but ready to impress, who loved what she did."

"She did." Anna swallowed, "Do you play an instrument Mr. Bates?"

"I've tried my hand at a few of them."

"Do you understand music?"

"I understand what music can do."

Anna frowned, "Like a salesman?"

John laughed, "I think you've a narrow view on salespeople." Anna crooked an eyebrow up and John continued. "To sell something well you've got to understand it. Do you read the Bible?"

"I'm not sure what that's got to do with this."

"Do you love God?"

"Does that matter?"

"It does if you believe relationships are cultivated through care and attention." John spread his hands, as if to demonstrate on the air itself. "An artist can paint a sunset but anyone can do that. The reason we love something like _Starry Night_ is not because we couldn't attempt to do it ourselves but because Van Gogh understood it. He understood the sky and he understood how he could paint it."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"To understand God we read His word, we pray to Him, we study about Him and then we can say we love Him though we've never met." John shrugged, "Selling the idea of a boys' band is no different."

"You love bands?"

"I love what they do."

"Which is?"

John's eyes took on a glow that Anna could not stop watching. "They bind people together. A common goal for an entire community from the mothers who dress those boys in their uniforms to the father watching proudly as their sons complete complex organizations of notes to the boys themselves as they shatter expectations and do something astoundingly difficult." He met her gaze, "That's what I understand music can do. That's what's missing from this town."

"And you don't think suggesting they all take piano lessons would solve that?"

"You've only got so much room in your parlor, Ms. Smith." John stood again, "And the woman on the stage that night could teach them that."

"But not me?"

"I believe the woman before me isn't the woman from the stage." He waited, Anna's breath catching in her throat. "The woman before me now is… sadder, than she was."

"Not all emotions can be happiness, Mr. Bates."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." John quirked a shoulder upward. "She's wiser too and I think the music she could make now would shatter her own expectations of herself if she'd allow it."

"You've got a very interesting perspective on the world."

"I'm a very interesting person." John tipped his hat to her again, "Good night."

Anna followed him for a moment before running to his side and catching his hand. "Did you really graduate from the Gary Conservatory of Music in ought-five?" John went to answer her but she put a hand over his lips to stop him. "The truth, please."

John let his shoulders fall and shook his head. "No."

"Then you're a liar."

"As I said, I'm a salesman and I understand the product I sell."

"Can you even read notes?"

"I hear them."

"Then you can't." John shook his head and Anna took a deep breath. "Could you help me find that woman?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The woman from the stage. The one who loved music and wove it like magic on the air. Could you help me find her?" Anna waited, her fingers almost strangling John's hand but he did not flinch.

"I'd be honored to try."

"Then I'll teach you music." Anna finally released his hand. "Much as I'm loathe to admit it, and if you ever tell anyone I said so I'll deny it, the town needs what you'll offer them. They need the lights, the flags, and the joy like you're promising and you need to deliver it."

"That's my intention."

"Good." Anna nodded once. "Then you'll come to my parlor at seven, on the dot, every evening so I can teach you. We'll tell no one but this you will do."

"I think I can manage that." John reached out a hand and shook hers. "I don't deserve this kindness."

"And I didn't deserve yours after what I've said and how I've acted toward you but you gave it all the same." Anna shrugged, "Perhaps we don't have to be sad anymore."

"But still wise." John lowered his lips to her hand and finally dropped his grip. "Good evening, Ms. Smith."

"Anna." She smiled, "Please call me Anna."

"I think I can manage that."

"Course you can."


	9. Pick-a-Little, Talk-a-Little

John stretched his hand, the cramp in it only fading slightly as the last boy ran toward his mother, the receipt flapping in his eager hands. He smiled at them, waving his other hand before massaging out the cramp. The chair scooted out and John turned to see Branson there.

"Don't you have work?"

"Finished early." Branson held up a piece of twisted wire. "Arm support as a music holder."

"Where'd you come up with that?"

"The side mirror on a motor." Branson slid the device up his arm and then took position as if he was about to play the flute. "Keeps the music as steady as your can be while holding your instrument."

"How's the music going to stay on?"

"Clips." Branson flicked his finger along the side to let a spring-loaded piece of metal clack against another. "Holds it nice and immobile while marching."

"You make it sound like you already tested this."

"I might've had some free time after church yesterday." Branson adjusted the piece and then took the hold like he might try his hand at the trumpet. "This one's a bit trickier but I think the principle's the same."

"What about the clarinet?"

"Then we just," Branson repositioned it on his arm and took the pose. "I don't know if any of the others get more interesting but this is pretty well and good."

"You know anyone with scrap metal, wire, and a foundry where you could make something a bit more stable than twisted wire?" John nodded at the creation, "Not that it's bad but I don't want a loose piece poking someone in the eye as he goes to adjust his music."

"I've got some friends in the warehouse and the refinery in town. I'll get it down." Branson shrugged and then nodded at the sheets spread out in front of John. "Those all of our band members?"

"First to last." John took them up, separating them out into piles and arrange them like sections in an orchestra in front of him. "We've got more than enough woodwinds and brass. William Mason even snuck in here to take the other tuba."

"Who's taking the first?"

"Alfred Nugent." John held up a hand, "Tall bloke with fiery hair."

"He's a good one. Both he and William are quiet but they've got good hearts." Branson sniggered, "Poor Mason though. He's got it rather badly for Daisy Robinson and the poor girl won't even look twice at him."

"Who's Daisy Robinson?"

"She's the one who fell off the stage and into William at the celebration last Saturday." Branson cringed. "Still a bit awkward to talk about."

"Why isn't Daisy returning William's affection?"

"I think she wants to but he's not the most forthcoming of blokes. Tend to the quiet and reserved. Got a good set of skills on the piano but he's timid and shy. Can barely get up the nerve to talk to her."

"And so she's diverting her attentions?"

"She's rather obsessed with Thomas Barrow."

John frowned, "The one who runs the local Boy Scout troop?"

"That's him."

"Were you a Boy Scout?"

Branson snorted, "Do I strike you as the time to tie a kerchief round my neck and salute to recite a bit of memorized indoctrination?"

"You could've just said no." John gathered the receipt slips, stacking them carefully in order to tuck into his interior jacket pocket. "Have you seen the school board this morning?"

"You mean Violet Crawley's goon squad?" Branson shook his head. "They're not around far as I can tell. Why?"

"They want my certifications and my license."

"Neither of which you have?"

"Neither of which I have for here." John shrugged, pushing the table back into an empty classroom and leaving the chair by its side. "Stopping in Downton was a last-minute decision."

"You hopped on a train heading somewhere and ended up nowhere?"

"I wouldn't call this nowhere." They walked together, their shoes clacking on the wooden floors of the school. "It's got potential and it's a lovely little place."

"It's full of bigots, close-minded idiots, and people so stubborn they'd have a staring contest in a blizzard."

"Nowhere's perfect."

"It could be more perfect than here." Branson shook his head, "I've got no desire to spend the rest of my life holed up in this little dump."

"Then leave. Go on out into the world and find someplace you like where they'll let you fix cars." John snapped his fingers, "I know a woman in Detroit who owns her own garage and would love to take on someone of your skill."

Branson shrugged, "Sounds a bit too convenient."

"You meet a lot of people in my business." John pushed the doors open and groaned as the line of four men approached him. "Want to endure the interrogations of the school board with me?"

"I've got no intention of enduring anything from Mary Crawley's desire of suitors." Branson saluted, "Good luck on your charm offensive."

"You're no help." John muttered before plastering on a smile for the approaching quartet. "Good morning gentlemen. Are you here to sign up for the band? I might find a way to get you a piece as a quartet but all the instruments are taken by the children I'm afraid."

"Then it's a good thing we're here for your certificates and your license." Matthew Crawley dug into his pocket and pulled out a badge. "We've all been deputized, after a fashion, and hope to make this a painless experience."

"I see you have." John worked his jaw. "Well, as you have it, I do have a license for general sales practice in the state of Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Missouri, and Kentucky but I'm waiting for the last paperwork to come through for Iowa."

"You don't have it?" Napier shot a wide-eyed expression to his fellows. "So you're soliciting without a license?"

"Not quite. I'm soliciting while waiting for the right license."

"The point still stands, Mr. Bates, that you're not authorized to sell anything in this city until you've got a license to sell in the state of-"

"Mr. Bates!" Blake stopped speaking as Mrs. Isobel Crawley hurried toward them. "I'm so glad I caught you. I heard you were finished up at the school and thought I'd lose you to the licensing office for the afternoon and not have time to tell you."

"Tell me…?" John frowned and then took the packet he put in his hand.

"It came by post to your hotel this morning. Mr. Talbot was going to risk leaving the desk to bring it but I happened to be passing by and thought I could run it to you. As it happens I met Mr. Branson on my way and he explained how you were on your way to Des Moines just this morning to try and appeal for the expedited license and I thought that just won't do since you're obviously needed here." She finally turned to the other four men, standing a bit more open-mouthed than John. "Oh, the school board, just the men I needed to see about the parade. You are excited about it, I presume."

They all rushed to try and answer her question but John spoke first in a more complete sentence. "They were actually just agreeing to a lovely quartet number. I thought we could use a resounding rendition of _The Battle Hymn of the Republic_ and they were debating parts."

"That's wonderful. We need a good strong number to rouse those just coming off the parade to the picnic at the park." Mrs. Crawley nodded at the four of them and then to John. "Have a pleasant morning."

Each man bid her goodbye until only John and the school board were left at the bottom of the steps to the school. They all stared at one another until Foyle coughed to clear his throat. "Well, I guess that resolves the issue of the license."

"It does." Matthew Crawley nodded to John and set his hat back on his head. "Have a good morning Mr. Bates."

"And you gentleman." John waited until they walked a few paces away. "And the music for the song'll be at your office by tomorrow morning."

None of them responded and John waited until they were farther down the street to look at the packet in his hand. The address was from Boston and when he opened it there was no license inside. Instead it was a series of papers that had John frowning. He thumbed through them until he reached the letter at the back of the packet of pages.

 _From the desk of Mr. George Murray, Esq._

 _Mr. John Bates,_

 _We regret to inform you that your wife, Vera Bates, passed last week. As her husband you are listed as the only inheritor of her estate and we require a written return of the following paperwork to finalize the details of the arrangement._

 _Although we are aware that you were in the midst of seeking a dissolution of marriage with her at the time of her death, her will remained unchanged and you are the sole benefactor._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Mr. George Murray._

John took a breath and then stuffed all the papers back into the envelope. It was too big to stuff into a pocket so John clutched it in a tight grip as he returned to the hotel. Talbot, standing behind the desk and speaking to a man with a notable foreign accent, caught his expression and held up a finger to stop him going right to his room.

The other man finished quickly and refused Talbot's offer of help with his case. Instead he took the stairs to his room and allowed Talbot to round the counter and usher John to a small table in the empty parlor. They took the round table and John passed over the packet for Talbot to inspect.

"Mrs. Crawley gave this to me and claimed it held my license for solicitation in Iowa."

"Might've been something I told her." Talbot shrugged, "Thought it'd help you since the school board sniffed around here this morning looking for you to ask you about those missing forms."

"Have they come in?"

"I don't think Iowa'll reject you when you've got proof for four other states but you've got no mail here about it." Talbot tapped the packet. "What's in it?"

"Take a guess."

"Seeing it's from Boston I'd guess your ex-wife sent you some nasty paperwork."

"You're only half wrong." John pushed the packet toward Talbot. "She's dead and the divorce hadn't been finalized."

"So your wife's dead?" Talbot pulled out the letter and snorted to himself as he read through it. "Talk about a lack of detail. They don't tell you bloody anything in this do they?"

"It's the way they do things."

"At least they can't think you had anything to do with it. You've been in the Midwest for years now." Talbot frowned, "When was the last time you actually even spoke to your wife face-to-face."

"It's been a few years." John shook his head. "I don't want anything to do with her or whatever she's got left to her."

"Why not? There could be money there."

"Or debt." John tapped the papers. "Knowing her the way I did, she's only left debt and unsettled accounts for whomever wants the responsibility for it."

"So what'll you do?"

"I'll ignore it and leave it to whomever she's got left."

"Has she got anyone else?"

"She had a nephew in Scotland. Let him take it." John paused, gnawing the inside of his cheek. "Do you know anything about this kind of thing?"

"I'm no lawyer."

"Then I'll have to get another envelope for it and take it to Mr. Crawley." John paused, "He's the solicitor yes? Not the landowner?"

"The landowner is Mr. Blake." Talbot pushed the packet back to John. "But don't let it distract you."

"I've got the last of the receipts." John handed over the forms and dug the money out of another pocket. "We'll write up the last of the orders tonight and send them in tomorrow morning before practice."

"Did you forget that I already have a form of employment?" Talbot motioned around him. "This is my kingdom and my master, John."

"And other than myself and whatever foreign gentleman you had come in today, who exactly is occupying your kingdom?"

"No one. But that doesn't mean-"

"What did I always suggest about your life?" Talbot shook his head, trying to speak before John could. "Take risks and win."

"I took enough risks to almost take a layer of skin off my ass, John. I won't do it here. Not when I've got a life and-"

"And a chance with Mary Crawley?"

"Not that it's any of your business but I find myself rather fond of her."

"And what if she's fond of someone else?"

"Then the chips fall where they may but don't-"

"I'm not trying to distract you from her, Henry." John shrugged, "If you like Ms. Crawley I think you should pursue that but, in the meantime, there are ways to distract yourself from endless polishing and inevitable pinning."

"Have you so little faith in my ability to focus?"

"It's more a lack of faith in men on the whole. We're a rather predictable species."

"Such as your obsession with a certain Ms. Smith?"

"Ms. Smith offered to teach me music." John puffed out his chest a bit. "I think I thawed through her chilly exterior a bit."

"Be careful with her John." Talbot shook his head, "She's… She's not what she appears."

"How so?"

"She's a murderer." Both turned their heads to see the man from the desk. The foreign gentleman removed his hat and bowed at the neck to the two of them. "I apologize for interrupting your private conversation but it was of great interest to me."

"I'm sure your interest was piqued by the fact it was private." John stood, extending a hand. "John Bates, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I'm sure you're just saying that as a formality." The man still took his hand, "Americans are always polite in their words if not their meanings."

"I'm Irish but I think you've confused Americans with the British." John took his hand back. "I don't know how it is where you call home but I can assure you that a true American will always say exactly what they think."

"Do you consider yourself a 'true American' Mr. Bates?"

"I'm an immigrant. What could be more American than that?"

The man gave a polite chuckle, "Quite right."

"And where do you call home Mister…?"

"Pamuk. Kemal Pamuk."

John raised his eyebrows, "Not a name I'd expect to find in Iowa."

"Then it's a good thing I didn't expect to find anything here." Mr. Pamuk rolled his shoulders. "And for the moment I call New York City home but once I conclude my business here I'll finish there and return to Istanbul."

"What a distance." John folded his arms over his chest. "I wonder what could possess you to want to make the trip."

"As I said, a murder."

"There's been no murder here." Talbot straightened his waistcoat as he stood. "I've been here long enough to know that the town'd be in an uproar if there were. We'd never stop talking about that kind of excitement."

"Then you've not paid much attention to your town, Mr. Talbot." Mr. Pamuk faced John, "But you're not from here, are you?"

"Passing through, as I imagine you are."

"Investigator?"

"Salesman." John narrowed his eyes and studied Mr. Pamuk. "Are you an investigator?"

"Insurance investigator, yes. I handle the dealings and distributions of deeds and wills after the passing of my clients. Especially in the case of suspected foul play or convenient demise."

"I'm sure that everyone's Aunt Mabel will eventually choke on her peas and that's nothing to worry yourself over."

"In this case it wasn't an old woman greeting the Reaper as a guest at her dinner table." Mr. Pamuk sighed, "This was a murder committed by a woman seeking to make a fortune off a targeted individual."

"She killed him for money?" John barked a laugh, "I thought only my wife had her designs in that direction but I guess I'm not alone in my fears for my life."

"And where is your wife, sir?"

"Deceased herself." John shook his head, "I wish I was a bit more morose about the fact but I haven't seen her in five years and out last parting ended with me almost losing my life so I can't say the world's lost too great a soul."

"How cynical."

"No more cynical than you assuming a woman in this town would kill anyone for money." John waved a hand about. "These are people of the earth. A hard earth that's made them stubborn and determined but not greedy."

"Greed is a universal concept Mr. Bates."

"But not the way you see it." John paused, "You said you practice in New York City?"

"Yes."

John shook his head, "Then you don't understand the difference. That's a place crawling with money, old and new, where people squabble and scramble for it in any way they can. This isn't anywhere like that."

"People are the same everywhere."

"I disagree."

"As a salesman?"

"It's a way to study human interactions." John shrugged, "You never know what people will do until you've watched them."

"And you've watched them?"

"I've sold to them so I'll ask what do you think?"

Mr. Pamuk studied John a moment and then let a smile slowly crawl its way over his lips. "Then, Mr. Bates, if you're such a connoisseur of human beings, perhaps you could tell me what you think you know about me?"

"After one conversation?"

"Do you need more than that?"

"Not really." John took a deep breath, "You're from money. Inherited a great deal of it but you're not opposed to working to gain the amount you have now. Not the kind of work that leaves you exhausted at the end of the day but the kind you get through careful manipulation and more than a few schemes that left some individuals in a worse place than they were before. But those people hardly matter to someone like you because they're obviously not as intelligent or as gifted as yourself and therefore don't matter. The little people of this world are nothing to you."

"Should they be?"

"It depends on where you're from. Obviously being in New York City hasn't done much for your perspective on the hard-working or the suffering people of this world."

"How so?"

"You live in a city beset on one side by towering buildings dedicated as edifices to man's pride and grandeur while the truth rots the underbelly while the other sides fades slowly into the ether because of neglect." John pointed out the window. "Here, there's no way for that kind of behavior to hide when you still know the names of all of your neighbors."

"And that makes them better?"

"It makes them different. It makes them suspicious of a man in a nice suit and shoes never scuffed or polished by the man wearing them." John's lips twitched up toward a smile as Mr. Pamuk looked himself over. "You're out of your depth here because you don't understand these people. They'll never trust you."

"Surprising as it may be to you, but there are people in this town who already trust me." Mr. Pamuk gathered himself. "I went to school with the defacto owner of this town, Mr. Alexander Green, and his friends Mr. Evelyn Napier and Mr. Anthony Foyle. We were all rather close and if they found their place here they'll help me steer through the shit of this town."

"Then I guess I'll have to trust you know what you're doing." John reached for his hat, "Enjoy the remainder of your morning."

"I'm sure I will." John went to leave the table, aiming for the stairs with the packet of papers tucked under his arm. "You wouldn't happen to know where people in this town are at this time of day, would you?"

"Working hard at their jobs." John turned on the bottom step, pointing to where Talbot attempted to slink back behind the counter. "I'm sure Mr. Talbot could help you locate someone. He's rather informed on the goings-on of this town."

"Your inside-man?"

"He's been of help to me." John shuffled, catching Talbot's eye. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I seem to remember someone, very much like yourself, who was peddling gold-painted watches outside Carnegie Hall a few years ago." Mr. Pamuk stalked toward John and nodded in Talbot's direction. "Don't think I didn't recognize your companion behind the desk from those posters with his face on it in the city. Posters that hang next to yours."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" Mr. Pamuk came to the base of the stairs. "Don't you know about the posters hoping to find John Bates and arrest him for solicitation without a license? Or those inquiring as to his whereabouts in the mysterious death of his wife?"

John stepped down to stand toe-to-toe with Mr. Pamuk. "What are you getting at since I know that's all a lie. I've only been to New York City once and I never sold anything there. My territory's been the Midwest for ages."

"I'm only saying what I could make happen to a… salesman, like yourself." Mr. Pamuk jerked his head toward Talbot. "Or for the desk clerk in a hotel lobby. It wouldn't be hard and I wouldn't have to sweat about it at all."

"I'll just assume, then, that you've got a point."

"I'm here to advise you to either help me find the woman I'm looking for or you'll find yourself in the same kind of trouble she'll be in when I prove she murdered Alex Green."

"And who are you looking for?"

"Anna Smith." Mr. Pamuk's lips pursed. "You should know her. She's a blonde woman who plays the piano rather well. Played at Carnegie Hall on the night I saw you there."

John paled, "How'd you know I was-"

"The woman who took you, Edna Braithwaite, is a friend. She told me stories about the salesman who broke her heart and asked if there was anything I could do about it."

"I'm sure you were ever-so-happy to oblige."

"I was interested in a man who's become rather a legend in this part of the country." Mr. Pamuk whistled, "Quite the salesman and quite the line of broken hearts left in your wake."

"And what's that got to do with your insurance investigations?"

"Some of them feel you cheated them, Mr. Bates, and they want their money back." Mr. Pamuk took a step back, "Now, on a single case basis there'd be nothing there for me. Just a disgruntled woman angry you took her chastity and left her with a Jew's harp."

John did not answer and Mr. Pamuk's eyebrows rose. "What? Not going to ask which one that was?"

"I remember every instrument I ever sold and I never had to sell one with sexual favors."

"That's not for me to judge or care. What I care about is the list of women willing to try and get their money back from you and the size of a commission I'd earn on that." Mr. Pamuk leaned forward to whisper in John's ear. "Does that interest you?"

"Should it?"

"Depends on the kind of life you hope to live after this." Mr. Pamuk stepped back, "Think on it."

"On what, exactly? You've puffed a lot of hot air here."

"On what you'll do if I tell the authorities you're here. Or those women. Or if I decide to press their case. Think of where you'll be when I get done with you." Mr. Pamuk went to the door, putting on his hat before turning back to John. "And Mr. Bates? I won't have to break a sweat for it."

He left the lobby and the other two men in silence.

"So," John turned to Talbot as he spoke. "Is it too soon to find the next train to California?"

"You'll let that slimy Turk drive us away?"

"We've not played with the law at his level John and I know that there are people around here who'll take his shiny shoes as seriously as those who'll disregard him for it. And the trouble is that those who'll take him seriously are those in power."

"Not in this town, surely."

"Maybe not in Downton but in Des Moines or any other big city between here and the West Coast?" Talbot nodded, "He'll make life difficult for us."

"I won't let him scare me down a hole." John frowned, facing Talbot. "Is what he said about Ms. Smith true?"

"According to the rumors, maybe." Talbot shrugged, "Mr. Green died in her home and left her the deeds for her family's land as well as all the books in the library on the condition she'd be the Librarian."

"Like he wanted to keep her here?"

"Duty kept her here." Talbot drummed his fingers on the countertop, "But you're deflecting from the issue."

"He's one man."

"And he's not alone. People like him never travel alone. He's got men in his pocket and need only pull them out at whim."

"I won't be frightened by him."

"Maybe you should be."

"You want me to cower in front of a man with flashy shoes and perfect teeth?"

"I want you to take a man with power seriously John." Talbot shivered. "I was afraid this would happen."

"That a Turk in a fancy suit would-"

"That my past would catch up with me." Talbot hissed, settling after a moment as he gained control of himself. "I came here to find a life and settle down. I'm here to make peace with the world John, not fight it."

"You think I'm going to fight the world?"

"You take on that man and you might as well." Talbot shook his head, "Whatever you've got planned, from now on you're on your own."

John went to speak and then stopped himself, nodding. "I understand."

"I hope so." Talbot pointed to the phone. "Want me to find you a train?"

"No." John shook his head, heading back for the stairs. "I'm staying here."

"John-"

"You make your stand where you will Henry and I'm making mine." John used the packet in his hand to point toward the door. "No decorated toadie or stuck up bastard like that's going to drive me from anywhere. I don't bow to the likes of him and if he wants a fight that's what he'll get."

"You're making a mistake."

"Better to die fighting on my feet than live on my knees."

"You can't…" Talbot put his hands on either side of his head and groaned a moment. "You can't fight this."

"Watch me."

"He'll destroy you John."

"Then at least I went down fighting because this is my mistake to make and I'll make it a thousand times rather than let someone like that determine my future." John closed his eyes a moment. " _I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul._ "

"That's beautiful but-"

"There's no 'buts' Henry. This is where I draw the line and I'll make my stand against people like that." John shrugged, "You make your stand where you want but this is where I make mine."


	10. Goodnight Ladies

Anna stamped the interior of the book and set it to the side as the front doors of the library opened. Reaching for another book, a hand reached out to take hers and pressed a kiss to the skin. As she raised her head to argue with the impertinent individual making bold assumptions, Anna snatched her hand away and shrank back. The man only smiled and removed his hat.

"It's been a long time Ms. Smith."

"Mr. Pamuk," Anna rubbed over her hand as if massaging a burn. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Not an unwelcome one?"

"You know the saying…" Anna waited but Pamuk shook his head as if he was unaware. "If you can't say something nice, best not to say anything at all."

"Ah," Pamuk dusted off his hat and set it on the counter between them. "Do you have something unkind you'd like to say about me, Ms. Smith?"

"There's a great deal I would like to say and truly shouldn't." Anna snuck a glance around the mostly empty library to confirm the only patrons were out of earshot or too deaf to make out what she was saying. "How could the Library be of service to you today?"

"It's more about how the Library's been of service to you." His eyes narrowed and Anna suppressed the urge to shudder. "Such a gift, to your family, to have a steady stream of employment while they pick at the rocks in their dirt."

"I think you've confused Iowa for Nevada, Mr. Pamuk, as the land here is very fertile. My family's farms are in the black and have been for years." Anna swallowed, stiffening her shoulders. "It was one of the reasons why your former client was so eager to get his hands on them."

"I'm glad you mentioned him, and not me." Pamuk leaned an elbow on the counter and Anna resisted the urge to step away from him. "I thought it might be an awkward segue if I had to bring him into our conversation."

"Is that what we're having?"

Pamuk waved a hand around, pushing out his lower lip as if giving a demonstration of the emptiness around them. "Is there anyone else around?"

"It wasn't a question of participation but of intention, Mr. Pamuk." Anna bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm sure the nuances of English are still difficult, and I applaud your learning a second language, but there is context and subtext yet to master. We've a few books on the subject if you-"

"I'm not here for the damn books." His voice lowered to a hiss and Anna shivered before she could stop herself. "I'm here about the night you killed Alex."

Anna swallowed hard, "Are you?"

"Yes." Pamuk waved his hand to indicate the library again. "All of this was the result of his generosity to this lagging backwater and I accept that some men want to flaunt their power like this, however I do not accept that of all the land he owned it was a coincidence that he gave your family theirs and you these books without foul play."

Anna snorted, "I think, Mr. Pamuk, that I underestimated your intelligence and I do apologize for assuming you were a fool."

"Like you were a fool for telling Matthew Crawley you didn't know me?"

"Just because I finally realized you were the overly ambitious man who made unwanted overtures to me in New York doesn't mean I know you." Anna sighed, "I guess it's a testament to the truth of the adage that 'birds of a feather flock together' as it seems all the vicious birds flock together in my life."

"Then you'll understand the sharpness in my talons, Ms. Smith." He reached for his hat. "I'm going to visit Sheriff Carson and hope that he tells me the truth of what happened that night before things get ugly here."

"Ugly how?"

Mr. Pamuk's smile only molted into a leer. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Before Anna could respond two doors clacked in their jambs at the same time. She noted someone coming through the front door, the light behind vanishing them into a veritable shadow, before seeing Isobel over her shoulder. Both figures reached the desk at the same time but before Isobel could speak, all four people gathered at the space jumped as a book slammed onto the wooden surface.

The echo vibrated throughout the library and even the deaf patrons looked up from their books before making a show of burying their heads back into their readings while sneaking surreptitious glances at the desk. Anna opened her mouth to speak to the person who dropped the book but Isobel spoke first. "Cousin Violet, how lovely to see you today."

"Don't change the subject." Violet jabbed her finger at the book on the desk. "I thought I was very clear the last time I came here."

"So clear I do believe you used almost the exact same wording then." Isobel picked up the book and read the spine. "I don't recall recommending this book."

"Denial will do you no good." Violet leaned over the edge of the desk and whispered as if sharing a conspiracy with them. "It's a smutty book!"

"I disagree," Isobel's fingers caressed the spine of the book. " _Wuthering Heights_ is a classic. A noted beauty that added so much to the world of literature."

"I don't care what some panel of men in suits with no real understanding of the world thought of it to put it on whatever list you're referencing when you speak that kind of nonsense." Violet took a deep breath, "I won't have you suggesting any more books to my granddaughters."

"I already told you," Isobel huffed, "I didn't recommend this book."

"Then who gave them this to read when there's the Bible?"

"Not everyone is satisfied with the word of your Lord." Pamuk muttered and three sets of eyes landed on him. He held himself aloof until Violet rounded so quickly her cane had to clack twice to maintain her balance. The threat of its brandish in his direction almost had the man flinching.

"You look familiar, do I know your impertinence?"

"I'm not sure we've been formally introduced." Pamuk reached for her hand, seeking to use a degree of charm. "Kamal Pamuk. I'm-"

"You were one of the only people who attended that horrible man's funeral." Violet cut in and Pamuk blinked at her, matching the widening in Anna's eyes as Violet shook a finger in Pamuk's direction. "Yes, the man who slid like oil and spoke like he coated his lips with it every morning. I remember you and your eulogy for him… Seemed a little light of facts and heavy on platitudes."

Pamuk coughed, trying to recover as his eyes blinked faster than his smile could restore itself. "Perhaps you didn't know Mr. Green like I did."

"I'm sure I knew him better." Violet paused, cocking her head slightly. "Although, you seem like the kind who knew the version of him much more like yourself. Two sides of the same coin, as it were."

"You Americans and your idioms."

"I'm British." Violet gave her own scoffing assessment of the man. "Whatever Alexander Green was, he was not a good man. Anyone could see that."

"He was an impeccable business man and-"

"I wasn't saying he hadn't earned his acumen. Capability is to be commended. But business without moral aptitude is simply…" Violet blinked a moment, "Empty. He was the kind of man who could gain the world and lose everything."

"A phrase for your Bible, I'll hazard."

"So you're not a godless heathen, how refreshing." Violet turned to Isobel. "If you don't cease in recommending books to my granddaughters, I'll be forced to take more aggressive action. Is that clear?"

"That won't be-"

But Violet Crawley had already managed a carefully orchestrated pivot and clacked her cane over the wooden floor leading her back out the front door. The trio still left at the desk eyed one another before Isobel picked up the book. "I'll just return this and expand our Restricted Section to include all the books we own."

Anna waited for her to leave earshot and turned back to Pamuk. "If there's nothing else then I'll bid you a good day."

"This wasn't enough?"

"As grateful as I am for the warning shot across the bow, as it were," Anna paused before shaking her head. "Never mind. Have a nice day and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

Pamuk snorted, "Is that the kind of thing you like?"

Anna frowned, "Excuse me?"

"You know," Pamuk leaned in a bit. "Alex wrote me about you. Said there were other ways you'd exchange favors. He said you were… something of a surprise when it came to the bedroom. That your buttoned-up demeanor was only for the world to see and not who you were otherwise."

Anna's fingers clenched around the book in her grip. "I'm sure there was a great deal whatever letter Mr. Green sent you lacked as far as his details on the matter. The first being that I would never stoop to that level."

"That's not what he wrote." Pamuk produced a letter from an interior pocket, waving it in front of Anna. "He wrote it, interestingly enough, the day before he died. Mailed it the morning that he died."

"What a coincidence but one never knows when the Reaper'll come for them." Anna tried to busy her shaking hands with more books. "We'll all have things we've left undone or unsaid when the world decides we've seen enough of it and we move on from this mortal coil I'm sure."

"But how odd," Pamuk mirrored her position as Anna tried to seek solace in another section of the round reference desk, "That he managed to describe the encounter to me and, the next day, he's dead."

Anna stood up, fear and anger playing in equal measure over her face and giving different reasons for her hands to shake. "Then tell me, Mr. Pamuk, what you hope to accomplish from this line of questioning? What is it that you hope to gain by delving into the events prior to Mr. Green's sudden demise?"

"I'm trying to ascertain why a woman, such as yourself, would feel the need to kill him." Pamuk tucked the letter back in his pocket. "Protecting your easily sold virtue in a town of prigs and prudence police might be one such measure."

"You don't know anything about this town or the people who live here."

"Or perhaps, you killed him to gain control over your parents' lands." Pamuk managed a smile, as if satisfied he had ripped wool from his eyes. "Don't think I didn't trace the other deeds you wrangled from his corpse. Did you even wait for the body to cool?"

"Mr. Green came to my home with those deeds already signed and notarized, as any of the witnesses attested in the report Sheriff Carson filed."

"Witnesses all with a direct tie to you." Pamuk clicked his teeth and shook his head, "Do you really think I'd trust the words of those with something to gain by this conspiracy to murder?"

"Have we escalated that quickly?" Anna made a show of fanning her face. "My, my, I'm becoming quite the criminal mastermind and I didn't even know it."

"This isn't a joke."

"Clearly." Anna slammed a stack of books, making Pamuk jump back slightly. "Mr. Green tripped on the corner of a rug, struck his head, and died in my foyer. That was gruesome enough in and of itself. His business practices, the ones that stripped my family of their land in the first place, were cruel and heartless but resolved when he signed the deeds over to me. This conversation is useless and over."

She went to leave the reference desk, hefting the stack of books with her, when Pamuk rounded the desk again to stop her. "Don't think I won't find out the truth. I'm here for the long haul, Ms. Smith."

"Then I pity what you'll discover if you dig any deeper." Anna made a point of flicking her eyes as if to judge his nails. "You'll get splinters from scraping the barrel, I'm sure, and we wouldn't want to ruin the care you've put into those fingers."

"Mind where your fingers were or, should I say, where Alex's fingers were."

Anna shuddered, swallowing to suppress a memory. "Think what you like, Mr. Pamuk, but the only thing you'll find is that your friend Mr. Green was as nasty and detestable a person as you are."

"What makes you say that?"

"I came back here for the funeral of my parents. I stayed because the only way to keep what they owned was to obey the complicated legal limbo of his will."

"Then he was smart."

"He was a devious, conniving, hateful bastard and you're no different from him." Anna scoffed, "It's a shame poor Mr. Foyle and Mr. Napier experienced the misfortune of growing up with either of you."

"They were fine."

"They're of better stock than you, that is for certain." She tried to move but he blocked her way. "This conversation, as I said, is over so please let me by. I've work to do and you're delaying me."

"How did it feel? To once be a celebrated pianist and now work in the library in a tiny town that smells of shit?"

Anna held her ground, "Better than you must feel in the dark of the night when your whole life seems to shrink around you and the monsters that plague your nightmares stretch out their claws for you. When the scores of women you've seduced, injured, forced, and assaulted come for you in the droves, as they certainly will, and lead you to the throne of Almighty God. And there, sweating like the pig you are, you'll endure His judgment and wish that you'd only had to deal with all those who'd suffered by your hand instead as that would've been preferable."

Pamuk shrunk slightly, for a moment seeming at a loss for his next move or word. Anna nodded at him, "I'm sure you've plenty to think about when you're alone in the dark and counting down the reality of your fate."

She sidestepped him, handling the books to a cart and putting her hands to the bar when Pamuk spoke again. "Are they the same dreams that haunt your Mr. Bates? The same demons plaguing his dreams?"

Anna turned over her shoulder, "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing I'm sure he'd bring up willingly." Pamuk slid his hands into his trouser pockets, sauntering over to the cart as if he gained a foothold. "But you should ask about his wife and the suspicious circumstances of her death. Or, of the many women he's loved and left in all the counties of Ohio and Illinois, of which there are many. Or, if you're still in the mood for questions after that, about Edna Braithwaite. I'm sure there'll be much to say on that subject as well."

Holding his gaze, schooling her expression so not even a twitch escaped her as a tick. "Who?"

"Edna Braithwa-"

"No, not the woman you mentioned." Anna nodded at Pamuk, "The man. The one at the beginning, who?"

Pamuk blinked, "You're teaching him piano."

"I don't have any students with that name."

"He said this morning-"

"Who did?"

"Mr. Bates. John Bates, salesman."

"Oh no," Anna shook her head. "I don't consort with salesmen. I've more than enough things in my possession and I don't need anything else. And I wouldn't associate with the kind of trouble and riffraff something like that might represent."

"He said your name."

"I'm sure a name as common as mine is said in a great many places." Anna smiled at his floundering confusion. "Now, please obey my earlier comment and get out. I've got other patrons here with more need of my time and attentions than you."

Pamuk swallowed hard, scowling, and collected his hat. With his fingers pinching the top of it, he used it to point at Anna. "I'm sure you're pulling something here. Whatever it is won't matter because I will settle this. Alex's estate will go to his rightful heirs and I'll expose what you did to him."

"I wish you luck with whatever it is that keeps you here and hope it wraps quickly as there's nothing I wish more than for you to leave and never come back." Anna pointed to the door, "Leaving would be a start."

With a final glare he left, the blinding gash of summer light obliterating him from view. Anna sighed and pushed the cart away from the doors, seeking the proper places for the books stacked before her, and lost herself amongst the shelves. In the back, tucked into a corner, she found Isobel.

"Isobel?" The older woman jumped and Anna recognized the dark-haired girl hiding with her. "Sybil?"

"Don't tell Granny." Sybil hurried to say but Anna put up her hands.

"I wouldn't dream of it but she'll notice that you're… what word would she use for it…"

"Skulking." Anna blinked as an Irishman stepped from between the shelves as well. "And she'd say I was a bad influence on her and instead of just tormenting your fine ladies behind the desk she'd send Mr. Crawley to beat me with a switch."

Anna frowned, raising an eyebrow. "I feel there's something rather… significant, here, that I'm not quite sure I completely understand."

"Sybil started coming here to read the books Cousin Violet's been all up in arms about her having." Isobel sighed, opening her hand toward the other man. "But then Sybil found Tom here and they started discussing books."

"I'm sure that's not all you're trying to discuss if you're the one who's been secretly walking Sybil home from church on Sundays."

Tom ducked his head, shrugging. "Mass gets out half an hour before your service so it's not much for me to cross town to be there."

"Another point against you I'm sure." Anna sighed, "As long as you're not attempting to snog between my stacks I really don't care that you're here. I do, however, care that you might make this a battleground and disturb the other readers who come here to escape the heat."

"Never." Sybil put up her hands, waving hurriedly. "In fact we were going to find somewhere else but Cousin Isobel insisted and-"

"Why should they leave?" Isobel crossed her arms over her chest, "Every good library has something to offend everyone."

"I believe, Isobel, that the reference is usually in regard to the books themselves, not the people reading them."

"Ambiguity will be our ally."

"On your own heads be it then. I want no part in any of this." Anna grabbed her cart, taking two of the books and handing them to Isobel. "For the shelf behind you, if you'd be so kind."

She pushed the cart away from the trio, shaking her head and managing a smile for the first time since that morning. And the remainder of the day smoothed into an almost monotonous series of instructions for quiet, assistance in understanding the card catalogue, and sorting through returns for reshelving. By the time the day ended, Anna found herself rolling her arms in their sockets and massaging at her shoulders.

Muggy summer air hit her when she locked the doors for the evening. Sticky heat slow to relinquish its hold on the night as she trekked quietly through the streets and enjoyed the series of lights popping on in all the houses. Houses that bore all the same paint and wear as they had when she first left Downton for New York. And when she came back… As if nothing had changed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Anna started at the sound of John's voice. He raised a hand, as if to greet her, from his position leaning on the tree growing in the section of cultivated grass between the pavement and the road. "Sorry to've startled you. I didn't intend to make a nuisance of myself."

"And yet you succeed." Anna shrugged, walking toward him and inspecting their direct vicinity. "I had a rather unpleasant visit from someone today claiming to know some very damning things about you."

"If he had a very foreign name, I'm not surprised." John sighed, taking a deep breath before pushing off the tree to walk a pace away. He spread his arms, as if offering himself as a target, and nodded toward his chest. "Have at me."

"What?"

"I'm sure you've got questions. Anyone would given whatever it is he told you and, since we've an arrangement of sorts, I'd like to clear the air as soon as possible."

"I wasn't mentioning it as foreplay to an interrogation, Mr. Bates."

"But you're curious." John raised a finger, wagging it at Anna. "Don't think I haven't heard enough snippets of rumors around this town about you to be curious as to your personal history."

Anna paused, "You've never asked."

"You asked first."

"I did not."

"You implied then." He dropped his arms. "Ms. Smith, I'm sure you're already aware of the… charade, I run here."

"The part where you never matriculated from the Gary Conservatory Class of Ought-Five?" John nodded and Anna waved her hand as if to bat the argument down. "I can tell by the way you listen to music you've already got talent in that regard so whether or not you've got the papers to prove it really isn't a concern I have. It never was."

"You were worried about my position here as a conman."

"It's true I don't believe you actually sell what you claim to sell."

John grinned, shrugging, "Perhaps it's not a _thing_ that can be sold, Ms. Smith."

"Which would seem to justify your relegation to the status of huckster and conman… Wouldn't you agree?"

"If that were all I offered, baubles and pretty lights."

"But you're not offering that?"

John shook his head, "I'm offering that there's a gift inherent in music that can't be quantified by money or certificate-given talent."

"Although you'd try."

"As do you." John pointed toward the sign in her window and Anna conceded the point. "What I sell is a state of mind and a character, not an instrument or an instruction book."

"What do you mean?"

John opened his mouth as if to speak and then pointed toward the porch. "Might we sit? I've been on my feet all day."

"Tracking down the members of your conspiracy?"

"Meeting the members of the band and their families personally before practice. They live farther than I would've thought possible given the size of the town and I've paid for it in the wearing on my soles and the little shivers of pain going up my legs."

"We've a swing that might set you right." Anna opened the latch on the gate and led them both through it. John took to the swing and Anna closed the gate again before following him onto the porch. "You were about to explain what you meant."

"Yes." John shuffled in the seat and pointed to the one next to him. "Care to sit? There's enough room and I promise I don't bite."

Anna pursed her lips a moment and then crossed the distance to take the position next to him. "I feel that you're delaying the conversations."

"It does bear a touch of the Scheherazade about it, doesn't it?" John leaned back, putting the swing to rock just a bit with the tips of his toes. "But I've always found that when someone plays an instrument they stand taller, they walk longer, and they speak with authority."

"Really?"

John nodded, "I've watched little boys, already weighed down by cares and concerns that aren't theirs to bear, grow into playing a trumpet because they're uncovering a higher mystery. They gain what can't be taught along the way."

"Confidence?"

"Yes, absolutely, and an open mind." John sighed, "You can't pretend to sell something and not have the confidence in what you sell."

"You have confidence in your boys' band?"

"I have confidence that the children of this town, most of them destined to live and work the same farms as their parents, need one thing that makes them different from the photographs of people lining their walls wearing the same clothes and the same expressions."

"You want a way to rescue them from monotony."

"No, not monotony, because that suggests that only farmfers understand the horrors and drudgery of punching one's ticket at the same workplace day after day." John shook his head, "I want to give them something they'll always have to fall back on. Something to hold to when the inevitable happens."

"An instrument?"

"Hope." John met Anna's eyes. "Music is hope. It's how we measure time and how we fill our hearts when the world's left us empty."

Anna endured the silence between them a moment, with only the rock of the swing to set off the cadence of the cicadas in the night. "You sound like someone with a great deal of experience in that regard."

"I mentioned seeing you, in New York, and hearing you play." Anna nodded and John took a breath before continuing. "I'd just left my wife in Boston and started divorce proceedings when I did."

Anna said nothing. There was nothing to say. John's focus was entirely on his hands and she watched them sculpt and dry-wash as he continued his story.

"It wasn't a happy marriage. It was fiery and passionate in the beginning but you grow apart when you realize that you've nothing in common with one another. And the longer we attempted to pretend at marriage the uglier and more violent it got." John lifted his head for a moment, "I never hit her. If you believe nothing else of the story I'll tell you, I beg you believe me in that."

"I've no reason to believe otherwise, Mr. Bates." Anna gave him a small smile. "Is that when you left? When she was violent?"

"We were heavy drinkers then and when I got drunk I'd get angry and we'd argue. I always had a quick tongue and when the drink sharpened it… It could cut glass and I often lashed out at her." John sighed, "Made me wish I never joined the Army. If I learned the evils of drink from watching it kill my father then I unlearned it all by drinking with fellow soldiers as we fought the Spanish."

"I only ever drank wine at fancy dinner parties."

"Then you're better off. The harder the stuff the more disgusting it tastes." John managed another breath, "What broke Vera and I was when I found out about her… lover. The man who shared my bed while I was working every day."

"Who was he?"

John shook his head, "I never learned his name and it hardly mattered. I packed a bag, sent a note to a lawyer I knew, and left her. Traveled to New York to join an old Army friend on a sales venture and here I am."

"But that night, when you saw my concert…" Anna noted the glint in John's eyes as she mentioned it. "What changed?"

"I was angry and I wanted to get back at Vera for betraying me so I…" John coughed, "I found a woman. My friend referred to her as an escort and I decided that my revenge would be inviting a woman to share my bed."

Anna bit her lip and then spoke. "Would her name have been Edna Braithwaite?" John nodded and Anna let out her breath. "How'd Mr. Pamuk know about her to mention her name to me?"

"My guess, given that I know nothing about this Mr. Pamuk other than that he's as slimy as they come and a right dodgy bloke?"

"It's more than enough to know about him, believe me."

"I think he works with Ms. Braithwaite." John shrugged, "It's not uncommon, in my limited experience, to have woman of a certain class used as spies and smugglers. Ms. Braithwaite's position would make her ideal for carrying messages, threats, and secrets. She's a form of blackmail because to deny it is to risk the information she might know and to concede is to lose your reputation for dallying with a 'woman of a certain occupation', as it were."

"And he wanted to blackmail you with her?"

"He'd have a right time trying to." John snorted, "I may've been blinded by rage and revenge but I'm as much a gentleman as my mother insisted I be. That meant, for me, that it was the man's duty to ensure the lady had a lovely night."

"Hence the concert."

"I always loved Beethoven." John smiled at Anna and she swallowed passed the tingle in her limbs. "But that's what changed it."

"What?"

"Your playing." John stared into the distance. "I sat there, full of ugly emotions that canker the soul, and they all melted away. I saw myself in a different light, saw what I was about to do, and when the concert ended I paid Ms. Braithwaite for her time and sent her on the way. I never even found a hotel. I just walked the city the whole night, soaking in the new life I'd been granted. A life to live better than the last one."

Anna gave him a little smile. "And you have."

"I hope so."

They were silent again, swinging in a gentle rhythm still determined by John's toes. Anna listened for another minute before breaking the silence. "I'm glad you said it how you did."

"Said what?"

"That it was the music and not me that changed you."

John frowned, "Is there another way to say it?"

"So many people believe that they'll flatter me if they say that my playing was something remarkable. They'll attribute the magic to the practitioner and not to the composer." Anna ground her teeth, "Mr. Pamuk was one of those individuals."

"You've met him before?"

Anna nodded, "He once saw my performance, in New York, and thought he could charm me with his accent and a dinner invitation. I refused him and his response was to try and force me, in my dressing room." Anna shuddered, "I managed to push him away and someone came to find him before he could do anything but…"

"But it still marked you?"

"I became far more careful after that." Anna shook her head, "In the years that followed, I never allowed anyone else to ever meet me alone. He was occasionally at the parties and events I'd attend or where I was featured to play but I never spoke to him."

"Is he in Downton for you?"

"After a fashion, yes." Anna swallowed, "What I'm about to tell you puts you in a circle of confidence that only includes five other people, excluding myself."

John frowned and then nodded, "Your secret is safe with me."

"It's not a secret now." Anna snorted, "It's information."

"I don't barter with that kind of currency."

Anna studied him for another moment before speaking, "When I came back here, last year, I only intended to stay long enough to settle my parents' debts and resolve an issue that was about to leave my cousins destitute."

"I'm sure you don't want the compliment but that is exceedingly noble."

"You do what you can for family." Anna chewed the inside of her cheek. "Alex Green, the money of the town, owned the land my family worked. He was their landlord and tried to swindle the land out from under them in what were… legal but unethical business practices."

"And you wanted to set it right?"

"I lived below my means in New York. I owned two fancy dresses, for performances and the necessary parties, and lived in a small flat. I wasn't extravagant or entitled. All the money I could spare I saved or sent to my parents to help them buy this house and work the land." Anna breathed out, "I took everything that I saved, enough for their land, and traveled back here to buy it from Mr. Green and give it to my cousins while I went back to New York."

"But something happened?"

Anna nodded. "After the funerals I met Mr. Green at Town Hall, in his offices, to discuss the matter. He gave me the run around for lawyers and the deed office and the County Clerk until I ended up at his home one evening with all the paperwork intact. I was due to leave the next day and I needed the matter resolved so I didn't miss my train." Her breath went ragged and she noted the tremor in her hands. Bawling them into fists, her nails digging into her palms, Anna forced herself to speak. "I tried to appeal to his sense of dignity. To incite some measure of compassion in him to agree to sell me the land at the fair value. But he refused. Laughed in my face, actually."

"What could he possibly have wanted?"

"He wanted me." Anna closed her eyes, "His friend, Kamal Pamuk, had told him about me and Mr. Green wanted to… 'sample the dish himself' as he put it."

One of John's hands reached over to cover Anna's and she almost jerked away. But the weight of his hand over hers settled the trembling quiver to them and the white in her knuckles faded as she relaxed her fists. They unraveled and he wrapped his hands in hers, holding securely but not tightly to her while saying nothing. He did not even move as Anna spoke again.

"I tried to get away but he slapped me and I became disoriented. All I remember is pain. Broken glass and scratches and bruises and cuts. It was like my entire body rejected even contemplating what happened to me."

"But you got away?"

"When the nightmare was over, he walked away. I gathered my clothing, what wasn't in shreds, and limped home in the dark." Anna nodded toward the house, "Only Gwen was home but Mary saw me walking and offered to help me home. They're the only ones who knew, at first, what happened."

"At first?"

"The next day Mr. Green came to my door." Anna bit into her cheeks, her eyes tearing. "I thought he'd come just to revel in his handiwork. Something I was sure meant I wasn't the first to suffer at his hand. But instead he handed over the paperwork, all signed and notarized, that gave me my family's lands back."

"What?"

Anna nodded, "He even gave me back all the money. Said the 'price had been paid another way' and laughed about it."

"Excuse me?"

"He insisted that this kind of arrangement could make me a rich woman and tried to encourage me to stay in Downton but I refused." Anna put a trembling hand to her mouth. "I tried to give him the money. I told him it wasn't right and I wasn't that sort of person but it made him angry. He threatened to tell his side of the story, saying no one would believe me, and that I'd be ruined. I told him what he did wasn't right and he couldn't just buy my silence."

"What then?"

"I tried to leave the foyer and he grabbed me. I fought back, despite everything in that moment blurring to remind me of the night before, and I reached out blindly for something to defend myself." Anna wiped at her eyes. "It was a candlestick and it struck his temple."

"It killed him?"

Anna closed her eyes to nod. "He died on the rug in my foyer as Gwen ran for Sheriff Carson. By the time they got back there was nothing to be done."

"What happened then?"

"Mary and Gwen were in the house, had been since the night before to keep an eye on me, and they told Sheriff Carson what they heard. I told him the truth of it, all of it, and bless that man's heart he blanched but said nothing until Gwen got him a glass of water."

"Then what?"

"He ruled it an accident. Said the cause of death was that Mr. Green tripped and struck his head. A tragedy to a benefactor of the town but nothing to worry anyone's heads over. And he promised to keep my secret."

"But now Mr. Pamuk comes to town and threatens to expose you?"

"Expose us, I think." Anna sighed, wiping at her eyes a final time. "He's very interested in you."

"The timing's not at all coincidental either." John rolled his eyes, "I just received news this morning that my wife, Vera, passed."

"I'm sorry."

"I think it says a lot more for your character that you're more torn up about it than I am." John sighed, "I was trying to divorce her for five years and instead of escaping her that way she died before I can get away."

"What now?"

"I'm the only heir in her will but I telegrammed the lawyer to give whatever she had left to her nephew in Scotland. If he's even still there. I've not seen him since he got married and I don't know anything else about him except that he's ginger and his name's Jamie Frazer."

"Nice name."

"Far as I could tell he was a nice man. It only made it all the more strange that they're related. Or… _were_ , I guess." John sighed, "Mr. Pamuk wanted to suggest to me that he had posters with my face on them from New York or might make life difficult for me by trying to implicate me in my wife's death."

"Could he?"

"Possibly but I've not been to New York since after your performance five years ago. I've not seen my wife in five years. I've been in the Midwest since then."

"Selling boys' bands?"

John nodded, smiling at Anna's little joke. "Laugh as you like, Ms. Smith, but if it keeps me from prison then it's worth it."

"How many broken-hearted women'll be witnesses that you were there breaking their hearts instead of in New York?"

John winced, "A few. But I never did more than flirt with a few and kiss a couple. Nothing else happened. I was still a married man and pardoning the moment of weakness early on, I intended to be true to my wedding vows."

"And now?"

John shrugged, "I guess we're in this together Ms. Smith."

Anna blinked at him, "What?"

"We both know one another's secrets. We're… in the thick of it, although I'm inclined to believe it'll be thin and thinner for the next stretch, but we're here to manage it together."

"Even after… After everything I've told you?"

"I would think what you told me would only encourage me to join with you even faster." John put a hand over his heart. "It means a great deal that you'd trust me with your secrets."

"But I'm…" anna struggled to speak a moment, "I'm spoiled."

"You're what?"

"Spoiled."

"You're not milk left to curdle in a can, Anna."

"But I am spoiled. I'm… I'm spoiled for you, for any man who might even think about liking me… And…. And I can never be unspoiled."

"You," John took her hands in his and Anna shivered at the familiar tingle now spreading warm tendrils through her blood. "Are not spoiled. You are…"

He paused for words, flicking his eyes toward the overhang on the porch as if it might offer him some insight. "You're made holier and higher to me because of the suffering you've been put through. And I've… I've never admired you more than I do at this moment."

"Truly?"

"Truly." John squeezed her hands. "What you are, Ms. Smith, is Kintsugi… or Kintsukuroi if you prefer."

Anna frowned, "What?"

"It's Japanese and it means 'golden joinery' or 'golden repair'." John smiled at her, "There's a practice, in Japan, of fixing broken things with gold to allow the mended damage to shine through. To remind the users that what they're holding is a piece brought back together. Made stronger and more beautiful by the process of breaking."

Anna shook her head, "I'm not that."

"But you could be." John let out a breath but did not remove his hands. "We're more than just the sum of our experiences Anna. And while I can't claim to know the kind of suffering you've endured or what still keeps you in this town with all those dark memories but you're stronger than they are."

"Thank you." Anna squeezed his hands back and even intertwined their fingers when he made to pull away. "And I'm here because Mr. Green's will only allowed for the books in the library to stay if I was the librarian because I own the books… technically speaking."

"That makes no sense."

Anna shrugged, "He was a manipulative bastard who wanted to exert control over all things, even after death."

"Can't you sell the books to the town?"

"Only after at least a year has passed and that won't happen until after the fourth." Anna sighed, "By now I've not got as many supporters in New York. I've lost my flat and there's nowhere really for me to go."

"He destroyed everything about your life then?" Anna nodded and John pursed his lips before shaking his head. "We shouldn't let the bastard win."

"What?"

"He's dead. Let's bury him and be done with it." John gave a final squeeze to Anna's hand before standing. "There's better pickings west of here. Once we've made the band, we'll go west."

"We?"

John nodded, "As traveling companions, nothing more. We'll go west, find you the new ground I need and the symphonies you need, and we'll leave all the horrible memories on the east of the Mississippi where they belong." He extended a hand to her. "Will you join me?"

Anna looked from his eyes to his hand and back again before taking his hand with hers. "I think I will."


End file.
